Anaea Jackson and the Lightning Thief
by IWantColouredRain
Summary: Anaea 'Ana' Jackson was just another foster kid with a habit of running away when her maths teacher suddenly decides it's chow time and Ana's the main course. Then her best friend turns out to be half-goat, her Latin teacher's actually a thousand year old centaur, oh, and did I mention she's part god and has to stop WW3? No, well there's that too.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Ana's personality. All of it belongs to the great genius Rick Riordan.**

 **Prologue**

The infant was tiny. In fact, Poseidon was sure that he had never seen such a tiny babe, mortal or otherwise, in his entire existence.

The child stirred, sensing the sea within him. He quickly picked her up as she opened her eyes, already green. All demigods were born with their permanent eye colour. She fussed for a moment before settling, blinking her long black lashes at him.

"My, my," he murmured, bouncing her a bit. "You're certainly going to be quite that heartbreaker when you grow up. Not that anyone could ever be worthy of my daughter." The baby cooed in response, a bubble of spit on her lips. Poseidon chuckled, feeling pride well up inside at his youngest child.

It had been a risk, coming here to see his month-old child, but one he couldn't resist.

Her head was covered in thin, dark brown hair, the same shade as her mother's. Like most of his children she mostly seemed to favour him. Her skin was a natural tan, her eyes sea green and he could see hints of his Greek features under the chubby cheeks of all human infants.

She reached up an uncoordinated fist to whack his chest, a string of meaningless sounds coming from her mouth. Most importantly, her eyes were unguarded and innocent.

It was probable that the next time he looked into her eyes they would be guarded and distant. This was likely going to be the only memory he had of her without any resentment or coldness. His children had never been able to hide their bitterness at their suffering. Generally they didn't even bother trying to. It was the reason he always snuck in to see them as infants. So he had one memory of them as his children, not strangers treating him with cold respect, bitterness lurking in their eyes at the dark fates he had given them by giving them life.

He pushed away the painful thought of his future, where his youngest child would look at him with barely hidden contempt and instead focused on smiling at the infant. "Now then," he murmured to her, pulling her close as he paced around the room. "I am your father and you, my child, have a very special fate ahead of you."

 _"The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap,"_ the Oracle's voice echoed in his mind and he grimaced. The baby slapped his chest with her hand, as if asking why he had suddenly gone silent. He shook his head quickly, smiling at her.

"You don't need to worry about the prophecy just yet," he assured her. "There's still time. And it may not even be you. My brother has a daughter who's several years older than you. It might be her." He paused for a moment, the baby girl blinking curiously at him.

"Either way," he said. "You have a heavy destiny on your shoulders. You're my first mortal daughter you know," he added. She blinked and stuck her fist in her mouth. "I've had immortal ones, but all my demigod children have been sons. I hope you have your mother's personality. It was her kindness that attracted me to her first, you know."

"I thought it was the way my eyes change shades," Sally spoke up from the doorway. He turned, mildly surprised that she had managed to sneak up on him.

Despite the dark shadows under her eyes and the weight left over from her pregnancy, Sally Jackson was still one of the most beautiful mortals he'd ever laid eyes on. Her brunette hair was loose around her shoulders, she was dressed in a grey top and a pair of navy shorts to sleep and her eyes were currently a dark blue colour.

"I thought you weren't allowed to see her," his former lover finally said, a wary look in her eyes. "That there were rules and if people learned about her they would," she faltered and bit her lip. She looked young and he felt a brief pang of regret at the stress he had put the gentle nineteen-year-old under by coming into her life.

"I wanted to see her just the once," he explained and Sally nodded.

"You're always welcome anyway," she told him gently. "You're her father after all." Poseidon smiled briefly feeling a pang in his heart at her kind words.

Yes, while he was her father, should Sally ever marry, and with her beautiful looks that matched her loving heart, why wouldn't she? That man would become his daughter's father-figure. If she didn't gain a stepfather, then Chiron would probably take that position. That was how it always happened. And eventually she wouldn't want him around anyway, eventually his daughter would be distressed at his presence, considering it a negative instead of positive thing.

"What did you call her?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I assume you didn't name her Perseus Dylan?"

Sally smiled slightly at him, shaking her head. "No of course not," she replied, sounding amused. "But I still wanted to name her after a hero with a good ending. I named her Anaea Marisa. Anaea was an Amazon Queen who did a lot of expanding of their territory and she seems to have died peacefully. Marisa means 'of the sea'."

"A fine, strong name," Poseidon agreed. "Ana for short, is it?"

Sally nodded and they fell silent for a moment, Ana's soft breathing the only sound.

"My offer stands," Poseidon told her and Sally huffed in frustration turning slightly away.

"And my answer hasn't changed," she answered tensely. "I will not go to your realm, where your _wife_ and _legitimate_ children are, and raise my daughter away from her people."

Poseidon closed his eyes. Sally's spirit had made him fall in love with her but her stubbornness was still frustrating to him. "I bought the cabin for you," he announced curtly. Sally spun back to face him, grabbing the doorframe to keep from overbalancing.

"You what?" She demanded sharply. "I told you I don't want your charity-" Ana cut her off with a cry of distress at her mother's raised voice. Sally moved to take her but Poseidon shook his head, pulling the infant closer to his chest and rocking her gently.

"Don't think of it as charity," he requested. "Just think of it as me contributing to my daughter's upbringing. Just promise to raise her there. Or at least to bring her for visits as much as possible. It'll be easier for me to see her when she's close to the sea."

Sally sighed, looking away for a moment before nodding to him. "Alright," she agreed.

Poseidon nodded. He looked down at Ana for another long moment, memorizing her delicate features before handing her off to Sally. The nineteen-year-old pulled the baby close to her chest, biting her lip.

"Goodbye Poseidon," she said, her blue eyes sad. "I promise I'll protect her."

Poseidon gave a weak smile. "I know you will," he answered. He moved in and kissed her gently for a long moment before giving Ana a peck on the head and pulling away. Sally turned her back, pressing Ana's face into her chest as Poseidon glowed and disappeared.

As soon as he left, Ana started to wail. Sally felt a bit like joining her.


	2. I Turn My Maths Teacher into Sand

**Disclaimer: PJO doesn't belong to me, it belongs to Rick Riordan.**

 **1.I Turn My Maths Teacher into Sand**

Alright before we start, I just want to get one thing straight. I didn't _want_ to be a half-blood. Actually, there are few things I ever wanted less. But on the upside, if not for my heritage, I would've never met a lot of really good people. So, I suppose on the whole it was a good thing. Sort-of anyway.

Still, I wouldn't recommend it. Being a half-blood is dangerous, it's scary and most of the time you die prematurely in some painful way. So, if any of this seems familiar, shut this book right away and forget everything about it. Believe whatever lie your parents told you about your birth and try and live a normal life. But if you're just a normal kid, go ahead and enjoy. I hope my suffering amuses you.

My name is Ana Jackson. I'm twelve years old and up until a few months ago, I was just another foster kid attending Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids that took in three fosters on scholarships per year to make themselves look good.

Am I a troubled kid? Yeah, definitely.

I could start at any point in my short but difficult life to prove it but I guess I'm better off starting with last May, when my old class took a trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

Honestly, I was sort of looking forward to it. Latin was my favourite class and Mr. Brunner, my favourite teacher, was in charge.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of armor and weapons from Ancient Greece and Rome, which were really fascinating. Like I said, Latin was my favourite class.

I was hoping that the trip would go okay. At least I was hoping I wouldn't get in _too_ much trouble. Boy was I wrong.

See bad things happen to me on field trips. In fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.

This time I was determined not to destroy anything. If I got expelled one more time my social worker was gonna give up and send me to juvie, I just knew it.

All the way into the city I put a lid on temper and kept from breaking Nancy Bobofit's nose, despite her throwing her lunch at my best friend, Grover Underwood.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria. I took pity on him on our first day and intervened to protect him from Nancy and her cronies. We'd been friends ever since.

So, Nancy was throwing her lunch at him, the wads of sandwich sticking in his hair, and the only thing keeping me in my seat was Grover's hand on my arm.

"Don't," he told me when I twitched at yet another piece of peanut butter hitting him in the head. "You're already on probation and you know who'll be blamed if anything happens. Put your earphones in and ignore her."

I knew he was right of course. Nancy never got in trouble, even though I was only ever defending myself or one of her victims. But why would anyone blame the daughter of one of the school's board when there was a troublemaking foster kid available? I hate my life sometimes, I really do.

I followed Grover's suggestion, putting in my earphones and turning on an audiobook. Fittingly, it was about Greek mythology. Somehow, we arrived at the museum without any murders, despite the twenty-eight delinquents and two teachers stuffed on the bus.

Mr. Brunner lead the tour. He led us through the big galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of ancient shards of black-and-orange pottery.

I could hardly believe all of it had survived for thousands of years. It was absolutely fascinating, if you asked me. I loved history.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides.

I tried to focus on the lecture and ignore the muttering of the other kids but I knew I'd be in trouble with Mrs. Dodds if I told them to be quiet so I could listen.

Mrs. Dodds was our Georgian maths teacher and I was absolutely positive that the 'Mrs' thing was just a lie. She was in her fifties, constantly wore a leather jacket and rivaled my fifth set of foster parents on psychological cruelty.

Believe me, that's seriously impressive. They considered eating and sleeping rewards instead of basic human rights.

She had come to Yancy in the middle of the year, after our old teacher had a nervous breakdown. She decided straight away that Nancy was an angel sent from heaven. I however, am apparently the devil's spawn in her eyes.

I really hate it when she calls me 'honey'. It always makes me feel like she's taunting me.

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around to snap at her. "Will you just shut up?"

Of course, it came out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

"Miss Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?"

My face was bright red. I shook my head with a soft, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I looked at the carving, and felt a flush of relief when I recognized it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because ..."

"Well," I twirled a lock of hair around my finger as I recalled the story. "Kronos was king of the Titans and he'd gotten a prophecy that one of his kids would kill him to take over. To prevent it, he ate each of his kids, the gods, as soon as they were born. But his wife, Rhea, hid their youngest, a boy named Zeus. When he grew up, he tricked Kronos into throwing up his siblings-"

"Gross," a few girls muttered and I hid my rolling eyes as I continued.

"And they started fighting and had a war that lasted, uh, I think it was ten years? Something like that anyway. Eventually the Olympians won and chopped Kronos into a bunch of little pieces." I shrugged. "That's it I think."

Mr. Brunner smiled at me approvingly while Nancy muttered to a few of her friends, "Like we're actually going to use this in real life. What job resume is gonna ask 'why did Kronos eat his kids?'"

"And why, Miss Jackson, to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, is this story relevant in real life?"

I stared at him for a second, wracking my brain to figure out an answer. "Because," I began hesitantly. "Because it teaches us that in trying to prevent something, you can end up causing it to happen anyway?"

Mr. Brunner looked at me thoughtfully. "Not the answer I was looking for," he admitted. "But a very good one anyway. The Titanomachy, as it's called, in fact lasted eleven years, not ten but full credit anyway Miss Jackson. On that note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, will you lead us outside? Thank you."

Mr. Brunner called me back as the class trailed out. "You must think harder on the question I asked you," he told me seriously, leaning forward in his wheelchair. I shifted uncomfortably. Personally, I didn't think my answer had been too bad.

"Sir?"

"It's important Anaea," he insisted. "You will need to know the answer for your future."

I bit my lip. The only one who ever mentioned my future was Mr. Brunner. After all, I was a dyslexic and ADHD foster child with a history of problems. And it wasn't like my inheritance involved any money or anything.

Mom had only been nineteen when I was born and we'd struggled constantly with finances before her death. The best future I could hope for was avoiding prison.

I nodded anyway "Yes sir," I muttered. "May I be dismissed?"

He sighed but waved in dismissal and I hurried out, feeling miserable.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"What'd Brunner want?" Grover asked, passing me an apple. I rolled it between my fingers.

"Usual stuff," I replied. "His class is important for my _future_. Like I actually have one." Grover gave me a sad look and I rolled my eyes. "Don't," I ordered. "You do what you can with what you get and that's that." Foster father number two had taught me that.

Nancy stalked up. I sighed in exasperation. "I really hope you don't think you're intimidating or anything," I told her dryly. "'Cause I've seen hamsters scarier than you are."

She scowled at me and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap. "Oops," she grinned smugly at me.

See it doesn't bother me if I'm the one being targeted. I never blink when someone's trying to annoy me. But when I see someone _else_ being picked on, especially if they can't defend themselves, _that's_ when I get pissed.

I tried to count to ten to keep from losing my temper. But it didn't work. I was so mad my mind went blank. Next thing I know, Nancy's in the fountain, screaming that I pushed her.

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble. Again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, come with me honey."

I huffed but stood, a scowl on my face.

"Wait!" Grover yelled, scrambling to his feet. "It was me! I pushed Nancy." I stared at him in shock. Grover was terrified of Mrs. Dodds. He even told me she wasn't human once. She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looked at me desperately.

"It's okay," I tried to reassure him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at me. "Now." Nancy Bobofit smirked.

I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure.

I went after Mrs. Dodds. At the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He had a panicked look on his face and he was looking desperately at Mr. Brunner, like he was hoping for him to intervene but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in a novel. When I looked back at Mrs. Dodds, she was gone again.

She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

 _'Okay,'_ I thought. _'She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.'_ That wasn't great given my lack of funds but it wasn't the worst.

But apparently that wasn't the plan.

I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section. Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it had all my self-preservation instincts screaming for me to get away.

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

I did the safe thing. I agreed with her. "Yes, ma'am."

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?" The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil.

Maybe if I'd had a different childhood I wouldn't have been so suspicious of an authority figure. As it was, I firmly believed in 'power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.' I began backing toward the doorway. "Get away with what?" I asked cautiously, eyes flicking around the room.

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Ana Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she was talking about. All I could think was that the teachers had found out about the floorboard I'd pulled up under my bed to have a safe place to put my treasures. None of it was confiscatable though, except for the candy.

"Well?" She demanded and I shook my head helplessly.

"I don't-"

"Your time is up!" She hissed. Then the weirdest thing happened. She changed from a regular, if intimidating woman to, some _thing_ with glowing eyes, talons and huge, leathery wings. Given the circumstances, I feel perfectly justified in admitting that I screamed bloody murder at the sight. Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner came skidding in, a _hairpin_ of all things clutched in his right hand. "Ana!" He yelled. "Catch!" He threw the pin.

Automatically I reached out to grab it, but by the time it hit my palm, it was a glowing bronze sword.

Mrs. Dodds spun towards me with a murderous look in her eyes. I hadn't been so frightened since 'The Incident' and I was sure that I was going to drop the sword. She swooped at me, shrieking loudly. Vaguely I wondered why no one had come to see what the commotion was all about.

"Time to die, honey!" The thing that was once known as Mrs. Dodds declared, flying straight at me. I was absolutely terrified so I did the only thing that came naturally to me. I swung the sword. The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. Hiss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

I was alone. I was shaking from the sudden end of an adrenaline rush and there was a hairpin in my hand but I knew, I _knew_ that I hadn't imagined it. I glanced down at the hairpin and twisted the emerald on instinct. It expanded back into the bronze sword.

I was the same sword Mr. Brunner used on 'tournament day' when he dressed up in Ancient Greek armor and challenged us at sword point to run up to the board and name every person in Greek and Roman history and their mother and what god they worshipped.

I stared at it for a moment before setting my jaw stubbornly. After pressing the emerald which was now set in the hilt, and watching it shrink back into a hair accessory, I slid it into my bangs and turned to the door. I headed out, fully determined to make Mr. Brunner give me a damn good explanation for the sudden insanity that had just entered my life.

In hindsight, I would've been safer just convincing myself I had schizophrenia.


	3. I See a String Snap

**Chapter 2**

 **2\. I See A String Snap**

I walked swiftly out of the museum, the hairpin clutched tightly in my hand. My mind was whirling in an attempt to figure out what the hell had just happened. Any scenario that came to mind involved either my being insane or, even more distressingly, magic.

Whatever it was though, I couldn't figure out why it was happening to _me_. How exactly had I pissed off the powers-that-be? Whatever I'd done, I was sincerely sorry about it. Probably.

Mr. Brunner was sitting in his wheelchair and he looked up from his book when I strode up to him. He seemed to search my expression for something, I didn't know what. Whatever it was, he must have found it because he shut his book with a sigh, nodding.

"Alright," he said. "You're ready."

"Ready for what?" I demanded sharply. This was beginning to feel like some adventure novel with me as the unwilling protagonist. I didn't like it _at all._

"All in good time," Mr. Brunner replied vaguely, making me scowl. I've always hated cryptic stuff and avoiding issues. I much prefer just 'shooting straight from the hip' as foster mother six (a Marine Corps wife and daughter) had said. Better just to be direct about things, it made everything much easier.

I followed Mr. Brunner with a heavy frown, absentmindedly noticing a strange blonde woman holding a coffee cup and speaking to other students. Grover scrambled to his feet and hurried after us as quick as he could while grabbing our backpacks. He looked panicked and I felt myself tense even more than I already was.

The three of us gathered behind the bus. Mr. Brunner and Grover were sitting across from me with solemn expressions. I crossed my arms, feeling ganged up on while Grover glanced toward Mr. Brunner.

"Are you sure, Sir?" He asked softly and Brunner nodded.

"Yes, we can't put it off any longer. Not with Kindly Ones of all things attacking her."

"I'm right here you know." I snapped. "Put _what_ off? And what's a Kindly One? That thing didn't seem remotely kind, believe me. What the heck is going on?"

Brunner sighed. "I'll just get straight down to it, shall I?" He offered. "The Greek Gods are real. You are a demigod, like in the stories of Heracles and Theseus. Mrs. Dodds was a monster who wanted to kill you because of your heritage. You're very lucky to have survived and defeated her. The Underworld torturers are no joke, especially for an untrained half-blood."

I stared blankly at him. I wanted desperately to call him a lunatic and deny what he was saying but the thing was, 'Mrs. Dodds' wasn't the first 'monster' that had attacked me in my life, and I don't mean regular human monsters like my old step-father.

My earliest memory is of strangling a snake in my cot at playschool. When I was seven a man with one eye in the center of his forehead had stalked me on the playground. At ten I'd been attacked by a woman with one leg that looked like metal and one that I swear was just like a goat's. I was still sceptical though.

"How do you know that I'm a demigod though?" I finally settled on asking. "I mean, why me out of everyone else at the school?"

Mr. Brunner smiled approvingly at me, like he always did when he thought I was being insightful. It always made me feel pleased but frustrated at much I wanted his approval.

"Well there are several things that point to someone being a half-blood, which is another term that we use for children of the gods. The most obvious, but only to monsters, satyrs and centaurs and such, is your scent."

"My scent?" Ok, so I felt kind of offended. I didn't stink thanks very much.

Mr. Brunner, (or whatever his name was, I seriously doubted it was Brunner now,) smiled at me in amusement. "Demigods," he explained. "All have an aura of power inherited from their immortal parent. To non-mortals, this manifests as a scent. Yours is very strong. I haven't done a house-call in many years. I suspect that if you hadn't moved so much, or had such strong defensive reflexes, you wouldn't have survived to be found."

I shifted uncomfortably at that. "Okaay," I slowly dragged out the word, trying to straighten out the tangled mess in my head and figure out what to ask next. "So my, scent, is one sign. What're the others?"

"Well, ADHD and dyslexia are both common but not always present in a demigod."

"But loads of people have those!" I objected. "You can't be saying that they're all demigods."

Mr. Brunner smiled patiently at me. "That's true," he agreed. "They aren't. But demigods often have ADHD because their brains are constantly ready for battle and they're always searching unconsciously for enemies and escape-routes. The dyslexia is due to their brains being hardwired for Ancient Greek instead of English.

Were you to read a book in Ancient Greek, you would find that while it wouldn't be as easy as if you didn't have dyslexia, but it would be far easier for you than reading English is. Modern Greek would also be simpler for you read. And you'll find that you speaking the language itself comes naturally.

Finally, your difficulty in staying in one school is also often a sign. Monsters try and sabotage you by damaging your education. Camp, thankfully, accepts year-rounders and you can be safe, educated and trained there."

"Camp," I echoed. "What Camp?"

"Camp Half-Blood," Grover finally piped up, looking eager. "It's the only safe place in the world for half-bloods because it has magic boarders to keep out monsters. Unless they're summoned in of course."

My eyebrows shot up at that last bit. "Why the heck would someone summon bloodthirsty monsters into their only safe-haven? And why are the monsters so determined to kill demigods anyway? And how many of them are there? And who are you two really, seeing as you're not actually my teacher and friend."

I seriously hoped my hurt over Grover's lies didn't come across in tone but I doubted I was that lucky.

"I am your friend!" Grover exclaimed, looking upset. "Yeah I'm supposed to protect you but that doesn't stop me from being your friend too! You're my best friend, honestly!"

"Calm down now," 'Mr. Brunner said, waving a hand slightly to try and settle us. "Those are all excellent questions Ana," he continued. "I'll answer best as I can. People summon monsters to test their training and occasionally for practical jokes, it's never more than one small monster and there's always reinforcements nearby, everything is as safe as can be.

Monsters instincts are simply hardwired to attack when they sense half-bloods near-by. And while we're on the subject, mentioning specific names of deities and monsters attracts their attention and often angers them. Be very careful when you're speaking and always be respectful towards the gods. It's very important for your safety. Understood?"

I nodded and silently hoped that I never met a single deity for the rest of my life. I was terrible at being respectful toward authority figures if they hadn't shown me that they were trustworthy. In fairness to me though, my second foster father tried to choke me with his tie for dropping a glass. I'm entitled to be suspicious.

"There's actually a limited amount of monsters," Mr. Brunner returned to the subject. "But they are all what I call archetypes. They go to Tartarus after being defeated and reform there. The time it takes for them to return to this plane varies. It can centuries or it can be days. That is why learning to fight is so vital for you and other half-bloods. They will never leave you be, if you can't protect yourself, they _will_ kill you."

I shook slightly at the seriousness in his voice. It brought to mind how my mother, despite our money troubles, had insisted on me attending self-defence courses once a week or twice if she could manage it.

 _"You need to be able to keep yourself safe Pearl,"_ she said to me over and over. _"Promise me you'll always keep up with it."_ I felt a sudden wave of thankfulness to her for extracting that promise from me. I never had stopped with practicing the various moves that I'd been taught.

"You asked who we really are," Mr. Brunner spoke up again after a minute of silence. "Grover really is Grover Underwood but he is, well." He gestured towards Grover who reached down to fumble with his shoes for a moment.

My jaw dropped when they slipped off to reveal a pair of _hooves_ of all things. "You're a, a. A satyr." I grasped frantically for the proper term. "But weren't they all like, drunk followers of Di-" I abruptly remembered Mr. Brunner's warning and cut myself off, eyeing my surroundings warily. "Of the god of wine?"

Grover grinned anxiously. "A lot of us have a fondness for it I guess," he admitted. "But not all. Tin cans are way better! We're protectors. We go across the country to find half-bloods and take them to Camp. And then if our applications are successful we can become searchers. You're right that we're all servants of Lord Dionysus though."

"What's a searcher?" I began to ask but Mr. Brunner cut me off.

"We're beginning to run a bit low on time. You asked who I am. I am your teacher Ana, I'm just not a Latin teacher. I am Chiron, trainer of heroes." His pride for his position was obvious even to me in my dazed state.

"Like the centaur?" I asked blankly. "The one who trained Heracles and Jason and stuff?"

He smiled and nodded. "The very same," he agreed. "And many more besides. And now, I get to add you to my students."

"Oh," I muttered. "Alright then. Where to now?"

"You and Grover must make your way to Camp without my help," Chiron told me. He searched his pockets for a moment before pulling out a pair of keys. "Grover will drive, he has his license and knows the way."

I nodded again, feeling vaguely like a bobblehead. Then the word drive registered in my head and I flinched and protested. "Drive? Like in a car? Can't we walk or something? I walk to Montauk from Manhattan loads! And what about all my stuff? Does Grover even have a license? We're in sixth grade."

Chiron gave me a gentle look that said he knew exactly where my distaste of being in cars came from. "I understand your reluctance Ana," he said to me gently. "But this is the quickest way. Now that you know who you are your scent has increased. It's vital that we get you to Camp as soon as possible. Grover is a safe driver, I promise. As for your belongings, I'll get them from the school for you."

I slumped in resignation. "Fine. What car are we taking?"

* * *

As it turned out, the camp apparently kept several cars stashed around the city for emergency demigod needs. The nearest was a small Volkswagen at a garage ten minutes away from the museum. Grover and I headed there after I revealed the hiding place under my bed to Chiron and made him swear to get everything there brought to Camp.

We were silent as I struggled to adjust to the sudden turn my life had taken. I had never felt so bewildered and confused in my life.

"How are you feeling?" Grover finally asked and I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Shocked," I replied honestly. "I can't believe I believe any of this but I do."

Grover nodded. "You're coping better than a lot of people," he told me. I think he was trying to reassure me, but if he was, he was failing supremely. I didn't tell him that though. Grover was a good friend even if he'd been lying to me for months.

My thoughts wandered suddenly to my mom.

"She knew," I didn't realize that I'd spoken aloud until Grover gave me a quizzical look.

"Who knew what?" He asked me. I looked away to scan the crowd.

"My mom," I said after a moment. "She knew who my father was."

Doubt flashed across Grover's face. "I dunno Ana," he answered sceptically. "I mean, most gods don't tell their lovers the truth. It's too much for them to handle."

"She knew," I insisted. I tugged a lock of hair out of eyes irritably. "She was always doing this _stuff_. Like making me go to defence classes. She used to choose to pay for it over getting all the groceries we needed. And she was always reading Greek mythology to me. She said I needed to know."

I frowned as I tried to remember what she'd said about my father. I'd never really been interested in him though.

I'd had Mom and I hadn't reached the age that I had begun to wonder about the man who'd gotten her pregnant and left her alone with a baby at nineteen before she died. Then after her death thinking about him felt like a betrayal to her memory.

"She said my father was important and older," I recalled. "He had to leave before I was born because he had a lot of responsibilities. I have his eyes and hair."

"Most demigods have similar features to their immortal parents," Grover offered. "Godly genetics are dominant."

I nodded, turning this new piece of information over in my head before yet another question floated to the front of my head. "So you're a protector right?"

Grover nodded.

"Have you found a lot of demi-, half-bloods?" I quickly corrected myself.

Grover tensed and I insistently suspected that this was a taboo subject. "Uh, no," he muttered uncomfortably. "You're my second assignment."

I wanted to probe more but I left it. It was _definitely_ seemed like a banned topic from his expression.

"This is it," Grover gestured to a tucked away garage. Then he turned to me and froze, horror flashing across his face. " _Di immortales_ ," he breathed in terror, staring over my shoulder with wide eyes.

I spun automatically, ignoring his protests. Bile welled up in my throat when I saw the fruit stand across the road. Sitting beside the old-fashioned stand were three old ladies, knitting the largest pair of socks I'd ever seen in my life. They were multi-coloured and about a meter long each.

"Are they," my voice fell silent at Grover's frantic whimpers.

I locked eyes with one of the women and swallowed in fear as she stretched the string in her hands.

Her sister raised a large pair of scissors, and without breaking my gaze, snipped it in half. As soon as the string cut I broke my gaze and stumbled back, grabbing Grover's arm and pulling him into the garage as quick as I could.

I shoved him toward the driver's seat and did my best to ignore his distressed mumbles of "Why is it always sixth grade? Why don't they ever survive past sixth grade?"


	4. I Become A Bullfighter

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or HOO. This chapter is dedicated to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. I urge everyone to donate even just a fiver to them, their cause is wonderful and they really make sick kids' dreams come true.**

 **Chapter 3**

 **I Become a Bullfighter**

I hate cars. Buses and train are okay in short spells but cars are just hell. They're even worse when I'd just had my worldview be completely ripped apart, seen what was probably the Fates cutting someone's (probably my) lifestring and the sky had gone black from one of the worst storms in years.

I held tightly to the door, keeping my eyes shut so I didn't have to see anything. My claustrophobia was completely out of control, screaming that I needed to get out before I took a one way trip to the Underworld.

"How far are we from Camp?" I asked Grover, flinching at the pounding thud of rain on the windows. The wind battered against us fiercely and I shuddered at the memory of the last time I'd been in car during a storm.

 _"Not gonna happen,"_ I mentally assured myself. _"It's not going to happen."_ Grover wasn't going crash. I wasn't going to clutch his hand tightly in my own while his face went white and his breaths went still. I wasn't.

"It's on Long Island," Grover answered me tensely and I risked opening my eyes. His expression was grim as he held the wheel but he didn't seem to be a bad driver. Apparently not having ankles didn't decrease driving ability.

"Where are we now?" I wondered. It may only be three in the afternoon but the sky was dark it looked like it was midnight. A few streetlamps were fighting weakly to give a slight glow but even as I watched I saw one tumble down from a furious gust of wind. I let out a scream of terror at the sight.

"Don't worry," Grover hastily tried to reassure me as he fought with wheel. "I'm a good driver, we'll be fine. Just breathe, it'll be ok I promise."

I whimpered in reply, images of my beautiful mother going still as her brunette hair turned scarlet from blood dancing on my eyelids.

Somehow, we got over the Queensboro bridge without crashing. How I had no idea, I spent most of the trip praying to any god, Greek or otherwise, to get us to camp without dying. A few miles past the bridge, I heard a threatening roar. It sort of reminded me of the time I'd gone to the zoo with my first grade class and some of the animals had rioted.

"Oh god, gods," I muttered, slightly surprised that I had the presence of mind to correct myself. "What now?"

I chanced a glance at Grover and felt my stomach sink. He looked terrified and I jerked forward when he pressed down flat on the brake, forcing the car to go as fast as it could despite the danger.

"Grover!" I yelled at him, my words muffled by the storm. "What was that?" Despite myself, I kept my eyes open, pushing back the flashbacks to focus on the situation at hand. 'Freak out later, focus now,' I decided. That was probably going to become my motto for life if I managed to survive the trip.

"I think it's Pasiphae's son!" He called back, panic in his eyes as he checked the mirror.

Dread welled up in me and I silently swore to never get in a car again. Or any other type of vehicle for that matter. People had gone centuries without cars, if I needed to get somewhere, I was just going to walk.

I shook the thought away, focusing on what I knew about the Mino-, Pasiphae's son.

An old king of Crete had prayed to Poseidon for a blessing after being crowned. Poseidon had sent him a snow-white bull. The king was supposed to sacrifice the bull to the god but it was so beautiful that he decided to keep it instead.

Enraged by the insult, Poseidon had made his wife, Pasiphae fall in love with the bull. She'd given birth to a half-human, half-bull thing as a result. Theseus had originally killed it but apparently it was back with a craving for an Ana Jackson omelette now. Joy.

I struggled to think what to do. Yes I still had the sword/hairpin thing I'd used to defeat Mrs. Dodds but I didn't know how to use it. Instincts would only take me so far in a fight.

"Does it have any weaknesses?" I called. The wind was so loud that I hurt my throat getting the words loud enough to be heard by Grover.

Grover was silent for a few minutes, struggling to keep the car on the road. "It's eyesight," he finally answered, a tense look on his face. "It has an excellent sense of smell but its sight is horrible. It can see bright colours, that's it." I glanced down at myself, an idea beginning to form. My jacket was a bright red colour. I nodded to myself and remained quiet as we drove through the pouring rain to camp. Each crack of thunder and flash of lightening made me flinch but the roars of the monster in the distance seemed to calm me, oddly enough.

Fighting nature itself was impossible. All I could do was hope that Grover could get us as close as possible to Camp before we crashed. But I could fight the Minotaur. Have something to focus on other than how little I could do to protect Grover and I was helped me gather my thoughts and suppress my fear.

I clenched my jaw and leaned in my seat, removing my new hair accessory to clutch it in preparation for the coming fight.

"We're nearly there," Grover suddenly announced a few tense minutes later. "Just over that hill with the big pine tree. Once we pass the tree, we're safe."

I eyed the shape in the distance, but before I could say a word, there was a sharp flash of lightning, a loud bang of thunder and I blacked out as the car overturned from the hit of the lightning strike.

I pulled myself out of unconsciousness a few seconds later, blood obscuring the vision in my left eye. Grover was still knocked out. I reached over and shook his arm, I sighed in relief when he groaned and muttered a sleepy "food". He would be alright.

I looked around helplessly for a moment, tensing at another roar from the Minotaur. The windshield was badly cracked so I fumbled to open my seatbelt. After a minute, it finally unlatched and I began kicking the screen. The crack widened before it finally shattered after five kicks.

The storm continued to rage and the sounds of the Minotaur got closer. I swiftly pulled my Swiss army knife from where I kept it hidden in my jeans. Then I cut Grover out of the seat.

After that, I clambered awkwardly out of the car onto the grass. I crouched under the upside engine to reach back in and pull out my best friend. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, keeping me from giving in to the panic I could feel and numbing the pain from my injured head and the scrapes I was getting from the glass.

"Food," Grover moaned again as I pulled him through the broken windshield. I dragged him out onto the grass and stopped to rest on my knees while panting for a moment. I stared at the hill the Grover had pointed out

It was just across in a diagonal direction. Ironically, the crash had propelled the car the remaining few miles needed to close the distance. But I still had my doubts about whether or not I could reach it.

I was injured, the Minotaur was only minutes away, the grass was high and would be hard to get through and the thought of leaving Grover behind never even crossed my mind. My chances were looking worse by the second. Another bellow from the bullman sealed my decision. I had to try to get Grover and I to safety at least. Even if we didn't make it, I still had my sword to defend us with.

I struggled up and the world seemed to tilt alarmingly for a minute before my head stopped spinning. When it did, I reached down to grab the still unconscious satyr.

Stubbornly, I ignored the sounds of my approaching enemy, and the pain coming from injuries. Thankfully, the adrenaline mostly suppressed the symptoms of my wounds, allowing me to concentrate on pulling Grover across the road, aided by the rain-slickened roads.

I was half-way up the hill by the time the shadow of Pasiphae's son fell over me. My head shot up and stared at it in horror.

The monster was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine—bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear—I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms—which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.

He was, without a doubt, the most intimidating thing I'd ever seen, including the Mrs. Dodds monster's true form. I suppose I'd been too busy panicking and fighting her off to actually be intimidated. He roared at me and I felt bile rise in my throat at the fowl stench of his breath.

Would it have killed him to brush his teeth once in a while? Seriously!

Shoving the thought away I hastily put Grover down on the ground, my movements hidden by the tall grass. (I'm not kidding about the height. It was literally taller than I am. Not that that's really saying much. I'm just under 5 ft.)

The Minotaur was swivelling his head around, snuffling the air loudly. "It has an excellent sense of smell but its sight is horrible." I remembered Grover's earlier words, and the plan I had formed in my mind too.

I stripped my soaked and torn jacket off, ignoring the cold raindrops splattering against my now-bare arms. Then I distanced myself from Grover, moving as quietly as I could to keep from drawing the monster's attention. Finally I judged myself far enough from my friend to confront the beast.

I raised the jacket and the wind caused it to whip violently in the air. "Hey Bastard!" I yelled as the fur-covered head turned in my direction. "Come and get you son of a bitch!"

I don't what, if any, of my words the Minotaur understood but he definitely got angry. He yelled furiously and bowed his head, pointing his razor-sharp horns straight at me as he charged. I waited until the very last second before jumping to the side, further infuriating the monster.

He let out another angry bellow, beginning to chase after me even as I raced away, toward the pine tree Grover said was the boundary line of Camp. But I didn't intend to simply go and get help or something, not with Grover's life at risk. Instead I was focused on the lowest-hanging branch.

I had only ever done basic gymnastics in school and I hate science with a passion, especially physics, so honestly I have no idea as to how I managed to swing myself in a full circle over the branch jumping onto the Minotaur's shoulders like I was Tarzan or something.

The Minotaur let out yet another bellow, this time more confused than angry and I felt a brief flash of pity for it. It hadn't asked to be born after all. Poseidon had been cruel to punish Minos the way he had. Pasiphae and her completely innocent son hadn't deserved to suffer the way they had.

In hindsight, that was probably the moment I started to resent the gods.

Pity aside, Grover was in danger and killing Asterion (the Minotaur's proper name abruptly popped into my head) was the only way to save him that I could see. At least, I consoled myself, he wouldn't really be dead. He would re-form and I would not be a murderer. The hairpin was still in my hair but I risked falling off if I let go of my grip on Asterion's horn.

I don't know why I decided to do so, but I tightened my grip on the horn and tugged with all my might. Sure enough, I tumbled off his shaggy shoulders, but when I rolled up into a kneeling position, the horn was clutched in hand. Asterion had turned around and was once again charging at me, his one remaining horn pointed at me.

I held the horn out in front of me and it felt almost anti-climatic when he ran straight into it, disappearing in a shower of gold dust, just like Mrs. Dodds. I kneeled there in shock for a while, clutching the horn and staring blankly as my adrenaline began to crash.

Eventually, a mumble from Grover forced me up onto my feet and over to him. I put all my strength into hauling him over the boundary line and down the other side of the hill. My world narrowed down to pulling Grover and forcing my feet to keep going. I didn't even notice the blonde guy until I bumped right into him.

"Oh my gods!" He yelped, reaching out to try and grab me even as I lost my grip on Grover and started to sway as my vision began turning black. I struggled to focus on his bright blue eyes. They almost reminded me of my mother's eyes, they were so beautiful.

"Help Grover," I managed to get out, before finally the last scraps of adrenaline I'd been clinging to disappeared and I slumped into the welcoming oblivion.


	5. My First Day

**Disclaimer: PJO/HOO belongs to Rick Riordan. Thanks to everyone for your lovely reviews, they really make me feel happy. Thanks to everyone who followed/favourited this as well.**

 **Chapter Four** **My First Day**

My dreams were annoying and awful. They ranged from irritating ones of groaning barnyard animals, to the terrifying and recurring ones of the night my mom died. I'm sure I was tossing and turning constantly. And it was a headache and half trying to figure out what was happening during my brief periods of consciousness, cause frankly, none of it made any sense.

The only thing that didn't change was that I was resting in a soft bed in a room with a wooden ceiling. The first time I woke up, that I remember anyway, a guy with blonde hair was feeding me pudding that tasted oddly like buttered popcorn.

"Hey now, Sleeping Beauty," he smirked down at me, the spoon hovering in the air. "As much as I like seeing those pretty eyes of yours, I don't think you're ready to get up yet."

"Huh?" I mumbled. "Who?"

"Later," he assured me before pushing the spoon into my mouth as I fell back into unconsciousness. Honestly, I didn't try very hard to stay awake really. The next time I woke up, it was only long enough to hear a snippet of an argument between Chiron and some girl.

"I deserve to know what's going on Chiron!" The girl insisted. "It's-"

"Not your concern Annabeth," Chiron cut her off sternly. "When it becomes relevant, I will tell you and everybody else."

I must've made a sound because they abruptly fell silent and turned to look at me.

"That's enough," Chiron said decisively, cantering closer to me as I drifted back to sleep.

When I finally woke up properly, I was out on a lawn chair with a blanket over my knees and Grover sitting beside me. He had an absentminded look on his face as he fiddled with "My bag!" He jolted back to the present, leaping to his, well hooves, I guess.

"Ana! You're awake!"

"Does seem like that doesn't it," I deadpanned, struggling to push myself up. Grover hurried to help me.

"How're you feeling?" He asked anxiously and I shrugged.

"Better than I expected honestly," I said frankly. "This is Camp right? It's beautiful." Grover grinned and nodded as I studied the scenery.

There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight. All of it was tucked into a large meadow. I could hardly believe it.

"Here," Grover interrupted my thoughts. He held out a glass of what looked like apple juice, with a tiny umbrella and a green straw. I nearly dropped it, I was so weak and I scowled slightly as Grover smirked and helped me to drink it.

My eyes widened in shock as I sipped it. It tasted just like my mother's chocolate chip cookies, still gooey from the oven. I sucked it all down with a hint of desperation. It made me feel like I was eight-years-old again, and Mom had just wrapped me in her loving embrace. Tears tried to well up in my eyes and I snapped them closed to keep from crying.

"What does it taste like?" Grover asked wistfully and I blinked, feeling guilty.

"Sorry," I apologized. "I should've offered you some."  
Grover shook his head immediately. "No, no," he insisted. "I just," he shifted. "I was curious, is all."

"My mom's blue chocolate chip cookies," I offered after a moment. "Is my stuff ok?" Considering almost all my worldly possessions, (or at least those I cared about), were in that bag, I thought I was right to be concerned. Grover nodded, handing me the ragged blue duffle.

I quickly unzipped it and began rooting around to ensure Chiron had got everything. Thankfully, everything was there. My books, all inherited from my literature loving mother, my photo album, my clarinet and my sewing kit, along with other, replaceable, things like my clothes and hygiene stuff. I sighed in relief and smiled as I spotted my mp3. Grover must've gotten it and put it in my bag.

"By the way," Grover said after I'd finished checking my duffle. He picked up a shoe box and handed it to me. "All spoils of war go to the victor. This is yours."

I opened the box and took out the black and white horn to examine it. There was a disconcerting black stain I thought might be blood, (though whose I wasn't sure.) it was kinda cool actually. I put it back in the box and put the box itself into my duffle. Really, it amazes me sometimes how much I'm able to fit in there.

"So, if you're ready," Grover's voice dragged me back to the present. "You need to see Chiron and meet Mr. D."

"Who's Mr. D?" I interrupted.

"Our director," Grover explained and I huffed.

"Okay but who _is_ he?" I repeated. "A demigod or what?"

"Oh," Grover blinked. "He's, uh, the god of wine."

I inhaled slightly in panic. "You want me, the girl who couldn't be respectful to a guy holding a gun on her, (speaking from experience here people!) to meet a _god_?"

Grover chewed his lip, looking nervous. "Well you have to meet him at some point. Just, uh, remember that he can turn you into a bug and squash you. Okay?"

I nodded, my face paling. Grover flashed me an uncertain grin and went to help me stand and make my way around the porch shakily. We rounded the corner and found Chiron sitting with a chubby-looking man I supposed was 'Mr. D' aka Dionysus, god of wine. A blonde guy who looked vaguely familiar was leaning against the railing. He looked up and grinned at the sight of us.

Chiron looked up from his cards and smiled a second later. "Ana, my dear," he greeted me. "It's a relief to see you up."

I nodded back at him and gave a slight bow towards Mr. D, who was studying me with a scowl. He looked surprised at my bow.

"Sir," I muttered. "Chiron," I added turning to him. He gave me a pleased smile and I stubbornly pretended that I wasn't happy that he seemed proud of me.

"Ana my dear," he greeted me affectionately. "You did very well getting to Camp. I'm relieved that you're healed."

"So, you're the new brat," Mr D cut in. I straightened and looked steadily at him. He nodded. "Well I suppose I have to say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood Abby Johnson. Don't expect me to be happy that you're here though."

"Thank you, Lord Dionysus," I answered, raising my chin slightly as he gave me a surprised look.

"Not bad brat," he admitted grudgingly. "At least you have _some_ respect. Keep it up and maybe I won't turn you into a dolphin." Grover and the blonde guy gave him stunned looks as the god stood. "I'm off," he announced before striding away.

"Wow," Blonde Guy said, turning to me and sounding impressed. "Mr. D congratulated you on surviving. I don't think that's ever happened before. You're one impressive gal, Sleeping Beauty."

I raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. "Sleeping Beauty," I repeated flatly. "Did you seriously just call me that?"

He grinned and nodded. "Yup," he popped the p and I felt my left eye begin to twitch as I considered whether or not to punch him.

"Well, it's good to see you're getting along," Chiron interrupted us cheerfully. "Luke, would you get Ana settled into Cabin 11? And show her around too please. Ana, I'll see you later but unfortunately I have some things to do."

"It's fine Chiron," I assured him, because he looked genuinely sorrowful at not being able to stay. "I'll be fine."

 _'Not like it's my first time to move into a new place, after all'_ I added mentally. He smiled and stood from his wheelchair. It was the first time that I'd ever seen his horse half and I have to say, it's beautiful. Then again, I love all equines. Even half-equines apparently.

"You can head to the meeting with the Council Grover," Blonde Guy, a.k.a Luke, offered. "I can handle showing Sleeping Beauty around." I gritted my teeth in annoyance at the nickname. But somehow, I got the feeling that if Luke ever called me something else it would be time to call the paramedics.

Grover looked anxiously at me and I smiled encouragingly at him. "Don't worry," I told him warmly. "I'll be fine, I promise."

"Okay," he gave in. A quick hug later and Luke and I were alone on the porch.

"So then," Luke clapped his hands together. "That all your stuff?"

I nodded, clutching my bag tightly. "Yup."

"Okay, quick tip," he began as we started making our way towards the eclectic collection of cabins in the distance. "Cabin 11 is the Hermes cabin, meaning-"

"I'm gonna be sharing space with a bunch of kleptos," I cut him off with a frown, though not at the whole klepto thing. I'd known people with way worse habits than that. "I thought Chiron didn't know who my father was. Why assign me to Hermes' cabin?"

Luke cast me a strained glance. "Well, Hermes is the god of travellers too you know? All the unclaimed demigods stay in 11. I'm the head counsellor for it by the way."

I frowned thoughtfully. "Okay," I dragged out the 'y'. "How long does it typically take for someone to be claimed by their parent?"

Luke sighed, shoulders slumping as an unhappy frown crossed his face. He stopped waking and we turned to face each other. "Honestly Ana, some kids are never claimed," he softly admitted. I blinked in surprise at him.

"That's cruel," I observed flatly and Luke nodded, looking pained.

"It is, but there's nothing we can do about it," he told me tiredly. I was tempted to point out that the gods could take a minute to acknowledge their own children but refrained. I'm sure that Luke had already had that thought a dozen times.

"Anyway, let me show you the Cabins," Luke abruptly put his cheerful expression back on. He began pointing out the different buildings.

I was confused as to why Zeus and Poseidon's cabins were so empty when the myths had mainly revolved around their many children, and why Athena, who I thought was a maiden goddess, had kids at all. Luke promised to explain later though, so I didn't press the subject.

Something about Zeus' cabin had upset him and I guessed that he wanted to compose himself again so I let him.

As we drew near to the area between Ares and Athena's cabins, we saw two girls arguing.

"Damn Annabeth, not again," Luke muttered under his breath, frustration in his tone. He glanced at me. "Stay here for a minute, ok?" I nodded in full agreement.

The last thing that I wanted to do was piss anybody off on my first day at camp. Especially since I'd be living here for the forseeable future. I grimaced slightly at the thought of staying in one place for so long but reassured myself easily enough. We were on the North Shore of Long Island, it wouldn't take me that long to get to my home in Montauk. I'd gotten there from New Jersey once and it'd been fine.

 _"Erre es korakas!"_ The blonde girl with grey eyes snapped angrily at the brunette with hazel eyes. She waved her knife threateningly and I had a sudden memory of my old neighbourhood, and the time I'd seen a guy stabbed to death to over an XBox before Mom had dragged me away as fast as she could.

"You don't stand a chance Clarisse," the blonde girl continued, an angry expression on her face.

"Language Annabeth," Luke interrupted. Annabeth instantly changed from murderous to blushing and shy. Major crush alert, I could hardly believe that she was the same person who'd looked like she was about to kill a moment ago.

"What've I told you about using that sort of language?" Luke asked sternly. He reminded me a bit of a father scolding his daughter.

"Not to," Annabeth answered sheepishly. She caught sight of me and her eyes narrowed. "What's _she_ doing here?" Luke frowned disapprovingly at her, I meanwhile, raised my eyebrow in surprise at the venom. It's not like I'd ever even seen Annabeth before after all.

"I'm taking her to Cabin 11 to get settled in," he replied. "It's kinda my job as the head counsellor, you know?"

"Why do you have to do it?" Annabeth grumbled, ignoring Luke's stern look. "It's not like she's anything special."

I sighed, so much for not making enemies on my first day. Still I wasn't about to let myself be walked all over by anyone. "Annabeth, right?" I clarified before continuing on bluntly. "Look, to my knowledge I've never seen or spoken to you before so I have no clue why you seem to hate me or whatever. That being said, you're at least my age which means that you've well outgrown the age where acting like a spoilt brat can be excused by not knowing any better. So either grow up, or at the very least stay away from me. I'm happy to avoid you in return, don't worry."

Annabeth glared furiously at me, a dark flush rising in her cheeks as she turned and stomped away. I looked at Luke.

"Look, Luke I-" I began to say. He stopped me with a shake of his head and raised a hand.

"No, Ana don't apologize or anything. You were completely in the right. I don't know what's gotten into her lately. She's moody constantly and I suppose Chiron and I sort of spoil her a bit and that doesn't really help her attitude."

"A bit," Clarisse snorted bitterly. "Annabeth gets away with everything Luke, and you know it. It's no wonder that she's such a brat, no ever disciplines her cause you and Chiron dote on her." Luke winced guiltily while Clarisse turned her hazel eyes on me assessingly. I raised my chin defiantly at her. She smirked and nodded at me.

"Not bad kid," she told me. "I'm Clarisse LaRue daughter of Ares. You've got spirit and I like that. If you ever need anything, Ares has your back." With that, she turned and sauntered away, leaving Luke and I stunned.

"Mr. D and Clarisse," Luke whistled. "And all in one day too. Dang Sleeping Beauty. You've got some serious charm there. Not that I didn't know that already."

"Not typical than, I take it?" I cocked my head as a smirk played on my lips. Luke grinned back at me, shaking his head.

"Not in all of my time here," he told me. "And I've been here for five years." Then he jerked his head in the direction of the other cabins. "C'mon Sleeping Beauty, let's show you to your new home."

Of all the cabins, Cabin 11 was the only one that actually looked like it belonged at a summer camp. It was wooden, with peeling paint and floorboards in desperate need of repair. Sleeping bags covered every inch and I wondered how anyone was able to breathe, it was so full of people.

"Ah, hello," an elfish looking boy leapt to his feet and wrapped an arm around me. "My name, _oraíos_ , is Connor Stoll, son of Hermes. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you."

I let out a small giggle at him. My amusement only increased at the slightly indignant look on Luke's face.

"Oi, Connor!" A guy who looked almost identical to him popped up and elbowed him. "Don't be rude! Let everyone else introduce themselves." He gave an elaborate bow and kissed the back of my hand. "Travis Stoll, my dear."

"Don't you have a daughter of Demeter to stalk?" Luke snapped, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to a bunk that was obviously in use. The others groaned slightly in disappointment at the end of the banter. "You're sleeping here," he told me and I gave him an odd look.

"Here?" I asked slowly. "On the bunk that someone's already using? How's that supposed to work?"

He grinned that irritatingly cute smirk at me again. "Alas, the cabin is full. You and I can share."

"I hate to ask this," I drawled in answer. "But if the cabin's so full, why not add an extension or something to give more space."

The others looked dumbfounded, like I'd just suggested something completely revolutionary instead of the obvious solution.

"That," Luke answered after a moment of gaping stupidly at me. "Is an excellent question. The equally excellent answer to it is that the two of us wouldn't get to share then."

"Do you typically share a bed with the new girl then Casanova?" I retorted without missing a beat. The others sniggered, looking between us like they were watching a tennis match.

Luke gaped at me for a second before laughing. "Oh, Sleeping Beauty," he chuckled. "You're really gonna liven up this place. I just know it."


	6. Half-Bloods: A History

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA**

 **Chapter Five** **Half-Bloods: A History, (My First Day Part Two)**

Once all my stuff had been 'secured', (Luke showed me a few loose floorboards that he hid his sentimental things, and I shoved my bag inside,) the two of us headed on a proper tour of Camp. It was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen.

We met a few people while wandering around too. Silena Beauregard, head counsellor for Aphrodite, and Charles Beckendorf, current eldest son of Hephaestus, in the forges. Katie Gardener and a few of her sisters in the strawberry fields, Will Solace, a son of Apollo, and I chatted for a bit about music and Luke practically had to drag me away from the stables (and the beautiful pegasi within) where I met Lou Ellen, daughter of Hecate, I liked in particular.

Eventually, we ended up on the beach. It gave me a sense of peace, hearing the familiar sounds of the waves and smelling the salty smell of the sea. I guessed that Montauk, my home with my mother until I was eight and where I continued to run to afterwards, was only about an hour's walk from here. A pang of homesickness and grief hit me and I wished that my mother was here. I wished she'd been the on to tell everything to me, instead of Chiron and Grover.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked me gently. There was no teasing lilt to his tone, only concern. I wrapped my arms around my torso and inhaled shakily.

"It's a lot to take in," I murmured. I gave a weak smile. "I think it's finally hitting me that I'm not dreaming. This is real. I feel like I'm trapped."

I breathed the last sentence out so quietly I'm amazed that Luke heard it. He wrapped his own arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer as we slid to the ground in a hug. Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over, Luke rocking me and whispering soothingly into my dark hair until I finally regained control of myself and pulled back.

"Thanks," I croaked out, wiping my eyes as Luke politely verted his gaze to give me a semblance of privacy.

"I get that it's hard," he told me when I was finished. "You're not the first person I've comforted after they finally realized that we weren't all crazy."

"Oh, that's a shame," I interjected with a weak grin. "All the best people are, you know."

Luke grinned and chuckled. "Funny," he said in amusement. "Maybe you're a daughter of Athena. Most demigods don't bother with reading or English literature. Dyslexia, you know?"

"I get it," I answered. I hesitated before elaborating. "My mother wanted to study English and be a writer but she had to drop out of school when she was in her first year of college. She was always reading classical literature to me. I have a lot of stuff downloaded onto my iPod, and for the actual books." I shrugged. "The headache's worth the connection to her."

Luke nodded but changed the subject. I appreciated his tact. When it comes to Mom, I have very little tolerance for, anything really, unless it's a compliment to her.

"So do you have any questions about Camp?"

I raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I didn't ask any earlier because I was saving them up," I replied dryly.

Luke smirked inclining his head at me. "Go on then," he gestured and I paused for a second to put my thoughts into order.

"Why does Athena have kids?" I finally settled on to start with. "Isn't she a maiden goddess like Artemis and Hestia?"

Luke looked surprised at my chosen question but answered easily. "She is yeah," he agreed. "Athena's children are born from her thoughts. She meets someone with a high intellect, spends some time with them, and goes back to Olympus. Then she imagines what their child would look like and voila! Newborn baby. She leaves them with their other parent then."

"So do some of her children have mortal mothers as well then?"

"Yeah, actually, gender doesn't really matter to the gods. For example, Kayla Knowles from Apollo has a mortal father and there's a few others too."

"Huh," I muttered. I was kinda curious about that but went on. I still had a lot of questions that I wanted answered after all.

"Are we allowed to leave whenever we want? And what happens with our education?"

"Okay," Luke began, clapping his hands together. "So, basically, during the summer, you can only leave if you're a part of a quest. At the end of the summer, you decide if you're staying or leaving for the year. Most people stay, we tend to have troubled home lives. Camp's home for us. During the year, you can leave with permission from Chiron. As for education, Chiron teaches us everything we need to do our SATs, and arranges them for anyone who asks too. Best part is everything is in Greek and interactive so we don't struggle with our ADHD and dyslexia. That's only for year-rounders, though."

I nodded with narrowed eyes as I continued. "Why are some cabins empty?"

Luke took a deep breath and released it before he answered, tension lining his brow. "Cabin Two belongs to Hera," he started, obviously choosing his words carefully. "As the goddess of marriage, all her children are Zeus'." I nodded as Luke went on. "Cabin Eight is Artemis' cabin. She doesn't have kids but her Hunters stay there when they come to visit camp."

From his grimace, I guessed that he had bad memories of the Hunters, either at Camp or out.

"Then there's One and Three," he looked grim as he explained. "They're for Zeus and Poseidon. The Big Three aren't supposed to have children anymore."

"Why not?" I couldn't stop myself from pushing. "Practically 90% of the myths were about Zeus' sons. And there were a lot about Poseidon's too."

Luke grimaced and raked a hand through his short blonde hair.

"Officially, their children are too powerful. We inherit powers from our parents' domains and Big Three kids are the strongest demigods, like the Three themselves are the strongest gods. Zeus' kids could call down lightning strikes or cause tornadoes. A son of Poseidon caused the Long Beach earthquake in 1933, killed 120 people. And supposedly his descendant was accused of causing the 1906 one as well. And Adolf Hitler was a son of Hades, and that's enough said about _that._ Supposedly they're too powerful to control themselves.

After World War II, which had Hitler for the Axis Powers, and Roosevelt, a son of Zeus, and Churchill, son of Poseidon, for the Allies, leading it, the Big Three took an oath on the Styx to never sire any other demigod children again. That's the official story anyway."

I'm sure that my face was ashen. "And the unofficial one?" I asked.

Luke shot me a wry grin. "Caught that huh? Yeah, it's not the real reason. If it was, they probably would've tried centuries ago. The only heroes recorded to have fought gods or Titans and lived, sometimes even defeated them even, were Big Three kids after all. Really, what happened was the Oracle made a prophecy. A child of the Big Three would either save or destroy Olympus, and Western Civilization with it at sixteen. _That's_ why they made the Oath."

"But they didn't keep it," I guessed shrewdly. "You said that they aren't _supposed_ to have kids anymore, not that they don't at all."

"You're clever," Luke told me. He flashed a grin at me but it disappeared as soon as it arrived. Pain and grief were in his eyes as he continued without any emotion. Which, in itself said a lot about how much this hurt him. "In 1986 to 87, about nineteen years ago, Zeus had an affair with a TV starlet named Beryl Grace. They ended up having a daughter in 1987. Thalia.

She ran away from home when she was nine. Camp sent a satyr to get her to safety, but she'd teamed up with two other demigods. Their combined scent was too strong, and Hades was enraged by Zeus breaking the Oath.

They were attacked constantly and the satyr eventually made a wrong turn. They got to the hill but they wouldn't have made it over the border. Thalia made the others go ahead while she bought them time. As she was," he faltered in his monotone telling of Thalia's fate before forcing himself to continue. "Dying, Zeus turned her into that pine tree. Her lifeforce strengthens the barriers. Keeps all of us safe."

I studied him for a minute in silence before speaking tentatively. "You and Annabeth were the demigods she teamed up with, weren't you." It was a statement, not a question. Luke nodded, looking pained. I didn't say 'I'm sorry', knowing from experience how much it _doesn't_ help. I just took his hand and sat in silence with him as he weathered the renewed storm of grief.

"Why tell me all of this?" I asked eventually. I thought it was a valid question. He didn't have to tell me the unofficial parts of the, well it seemed wrong to call it a story when Thalia had died because of it. History, then.

He turned to look at me and I was startled at the intensity of his blue eyes. I could practically see the different shades in them, he was looking so deeply at me.

"I'm not a son of Apollo," he told me. "I don't see the future. But I _do_ have good instincts. And they're telling me that it's important that you know this, and as soon as possible, too."

I bit my lip, dread coursing through me at the thought of this information being relevant to my future. My mother's voice, echoing a long-forgotten conversation with someone who's identity I'd never known, sounded in my head.

 _"I won't give up my baby! How can you ask me to?"_

 _"I ask you to for her sake!" The strange man's voice snapped back. It sounded odd, like he wasn't really there. "If you keep her with you, they'll find her eventually. It's only a matter of time. And now that Zeus' daughter is dead, I have no leverage-"_

 _"That's a little girl you're talking about!" Mom interrupted, sounding horrified. "How you think of an innocent girl as_ _ **leverage**_ _?"_

 _"I'm thinking of Ana. Sally-"_

 _"No, I won't. Now I'm done. Leave, you only put her in danger by coming here."_

"I really hope you're wrong about that," I told Luke hoarsely after the sound of a conch shell being blown returned me to the present. He stood, offering me his hand to help me to my feet as well.

"Me too. Come on, that's the call for dinner."

The pavilion was framed in Greek columns on a hill that overlooked the sea. There were no walls or roof anything to cover the mess hall. Torches blazed from the columns and a central fire was burning inside a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each table had a white cloth with purple trim. I liked it, it had a friendly, comfortable air in it.

Everyone in Cabin 11 lined up behind Luke and followed him to our table where we were served our dinner by wood nymphs. I wasn't surprised that the food itself was Greek-styled health food.

I had BBQ, grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, and fresh bread. I wouldn't really have considered anything except the BBQ dinner food, but I wasn't about to object. Long periods of time without steady access to any food, let alone good food, had taught me to eat whatever was on my plate without objection.

Luke leaned over to whisper into my ear. "We have to sacrifice a bit of our meals to the gods before eating," he explained softly to me. "I'll show you."

We headed up to the brazier with our plates. For a second I was sure that I saw a young looking girl sitting in the flames but when I blinked, the image was gone again.

Luke pushed a small portion of his meal into the fire, saying "Hermes," in a clear tone. I stepped up beside him, hesitating for a moment before pushing in some of my own food.

"Hestia, and Hermes," I muttered. The brazier had reminded me of Hestia, whom I'd always liked the most in the myths, or history books I suppose. And seeing as I was staying in Hermes' cabin, it seemed like basic politeness to give him some too.

"Most people just direct it to their parents," Luke commented lowly as we wandered back to the table.

I jutted out my chin stubbornly. "It takes more than conceiving a kid to be a parent, Luke," I replied. "If he acknowledges me, I'll sacrifice to him too. Don't see the point of doing so before that."

He glanced down at me, a smile playing on his lips. "Sleeping Beauty, you are definitely gonna be a breath of fresh air around here."


	7. Home Is Where The Hearth Is

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA. This chapter came out kinda depressed, don't really know why.**

 **Chapter Six**

**Home Is Where the Hearth Is**

The rest of the month seemed to race by as I fell into a routine. It quickly became obvious that I was a disaster at archery. On Will's suggestion, I tried the crossbow instead and I was okay, if not _good_ , with it. I gradually improved with practice under his instruction and I took the opportunity to learn first-aid while I was at it. Clarisse worked with me on hand-to-hand combat, and _that_ , I did well at, the bad habits I'd picked up over the past four years without lessons being quickly corrected.

Malcolm Pace, a son of Athena, worked with me on reading Greek and learning the myths for about three hours a day. Usually Annabeth would have done so for a brand-new camper, but given the fact that her hatred for me was obvious, Malcolm did it instead. I was glad honestly, because Malcolm became a great friend.

But it was in sword-fighting that I excelled. In my first lesson, I managed to disarm Luke, who was the instructor. It apparently surprised no one but me that he subsequently made me his assistant teacher, joking I'd be taking over the class soon enough.

I also became quick friends with Katie Gardner and Silena Beauregard. They were both girly girls, Silena a little more than Katie, but they weren't over the top. It was lovely to be able to spend a few hours gossiping and painting my nails. But I knew they could both easily take down most of their opponents and I couldn't for the life of me understand why anyone thought of Aphrodite or Demeter's children as weak.

They both rolled their eyes when I mentioned this one day while hanging out with them on the beach. Clarisse would usually join us, looking a bit sheepish and defensive, but today she was giving an extra spear lesson to a few others so it was just us as Lou Ellen, the fourth of my girl friends was one of them.

"I blame the Athena Cabin," Silena huffed, running a comb through my hair. "Their fatal flaw is usually hubris so they tend to think they're the best in Camp. Not all of them," she conceded. "Malcolm's lovely, and so is Sophia and a few others, but _Annabeth_." She scowled.

"Chiron and Luke spoil her," Katie chimed in. "And she's always whining about awful her father and stepmother were to her.

Apparently they were so bad she had to run away at seven, but did she ever get hit or abused in any way by them? Not that anyone in camp knows. Plenty of us come from bad homes, _way_ worse than hers, but the way Annabeth talks, you'd think her parents paying more attention to their newborn twins than to her was the same as beating her with belt.

And honestly, you can hardly blame them for being upset by monsters attacking their home, not that it happened often." She elaborated when she spotted my confusion.

"Annabeth's father asked her to come back about two years ago," Katie explained to me. "Sent her a letter with his college ring. She was all dramatic about it, only gave in because Chiron and Luke pressed her to give him a chance. She barely stayed a month, called twice to say that she'd been attacked, both times by lone hellhounds, which really isn't that big of a deal. Says she's fed up after the second attack, insists that she be picked up." Katie rolled her eyes bitterly.

Now done with plaiting my hair, Silena moved into our eyesight and took up the verbal baton.

"She's so arrogant," Silena complained. "Always going on about how my siblings and I are brainless because we like being pretty, or how the Ares kids are dumb jocks."

"Or how my siblings and I are weak because our mother is goddess of nature," Katie added bitterly. "And Chiron dotes on her. All she has to do is go to him with a trembling lip and he's putty in her hands."

I blinked at them, slightly shocked. I may not have known them long, but I'd already learnt that neither of them were the bitter type. "Uhm," I started uncertainly. "That, uh. Yeah, I don't know what to say."

They grinned at me and Katie patted my shoulder. "Let's change the subject," she suggested. "Like to the upcoming anniversary."

I crinkled my eyebrow in bemusement. "What anniversary?" I asked, wondering what I'd missed. The two beamed at me, Silena reaching over to wrap an arm around my shoulders and give me a squeeze.

"The month anniversary of your arrival at Camp of course!" She squealed.

I stared at her in shock. "My what?"

"You've been here for a month now," she repeated. "We should totally celebrate."

"Yeah," I echoed. "Celebrate. A whole month. Wow, I can't believe it."

I must've sounded off, because they both gave me worried looks. "Ana, are you okay?" Katie asked, leaning forward and touching my knee. I nodded blankly.

"Yeah, of course I am," I replied, standing even as the words, you've been here for a whole month, spun around my head. "I just need to." I vaguely gestured and wandered away, thankful that they didn't try to stop me despite their worried looks.

I somehow ended up at the hearth in the open-air pavilion, still dazed from my realization.

I hadn't lived in the same place for a whole month without trying to run away save for Montauk ever since my mother died. I had never even wanted to. Even the good homes, after two weeks I'd start getting itchy feet and my thoughts would turn to the cabin on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island.

It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in. I loved the place and so had Mom.

I know now that having the cabin had kept us afloat most of my life. Mom rented it out during the year and people would spend the weekend there. And every year, without fail, the two of us would head down to it during the summer and winter and even the Easter holidays.

We would arrive and open all the cabin's windows, and go through our usual cleaning routine. The we would walk on the beach, feed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munch on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from her job at the sweet shop.

Mom had this thing about blue food. My stepfather told her there was no such thing once, and they had a huge fight about it. It seemed like a really little thing at the time, but after that, Mom was constantly dying food blue, or making blueberry smoothies.

That and things like our 'Girl Days' and keeping her maiden name, were her way of rebelling against Gabe and his tyranny. She was the one who taught me that it wasn't always about being obvious in your rebellion, but that the little things make the biggest differences.

It broke my heart, knowing the best woman who ever existed was dead. And part of me wondered. Yes, the gods couldn't interfere in their children's lives, but if he was so powerful, why couldn't my father have done something to stop her head slamming through that damn windscreen?

"Her loss was a terrible one," a gentle voice broke through my increasingly depressed thoughts and I jerked out of them. A part of me was upset to realize that I'd automatically begun reaching for the clip in my hair. I lowered my hand slowly, staring at the girl sitting in the centre of the hearth.

I _would_ have thought that she was just another camper, about eight or nine-years-old, but her eyes looked like there were flames dancing in them, and of course, she was _sitting in the fire._

I quickly ran my mental list of immortals through my head, coming up with the most likely candidate as I gave a careful bow.

"Lady Hestia," I greeted her. "I'm honoured to meet you." Hestia smiled at me, the orange flames in her eyes brightening cheerfully.

"I am honoured to meet you also, Anaea Jackson," she told me happily, smiling brightly. It was hard to believe someone so slight and innocent looking could probably destroy all of America in less than five minutes, and wasn't that a disturbing thought?

She frowned slightly and I stiffened in response. "I would not kill so many innocents for no reason," she informed me firmly. I wondered morbidly if that meant she _would_ kill that many for a reason.

"I'm glad to chat to you," Hestia continued, ignoring my thoughts (hopefully, again, America in ruins, minus five minutes. Heck, minus five _seconds_ ).

"Everybody is so busy now," Hestia continued. "No one takes the time to stop at the hearth and have a chat with me anymore. Nobody even sees me most of time."

Despite myself, I felt sympathy well up at Hestia's evident loneliness. Impulsively, I sat down as close to the flames as I dared, tucking my legs underneath me.

"I'll talk to you," I offered. "Every day if you like." She beamed at me, clapping softly like she really was an eight-year-old girl.

"Would you really?" She asked hopefully. "You remind me of your mother very much you know. You have your compassion. Not much of your father in your personality. Though, you do look very like him."

I stared at her in surprise and a bit of pleasure. I was self-aware enough to realize that my memories of my mom probably weren't very accurate, being from the perspective of an adoring eight-year-old. Still, I truly did believe that my mother was the best person to ever breathe and hearing someone say I was like her, in any way, made me light up. Still.

"Did you know her?" I asked, dismissing the comment about my father. Really, he'd only impacted my conception, I didn't particularly care about him or any similarities we had.

 _"Don't let your heritage define you, kiddo,"_ the voice of my former foster sister, Michelle advised me. Michelle had lived her entire life being judged by her skin colour and the actions of her murderer father. She'd pounded it into our heads that we were shaped by our experiences, and the people around us. Not by our genealogy. Mom had impacted me because I'd grown up around her. My father hadn't. That was it.

Hestia smiled, reclaiming my attention with her nod. "Yes, I did," she announced, my eyes widening slightly. "Sally was a brilliant, kind woman. One of the most compassionate I ever met. A queen among mortals, your father called her. But her personality was not the only rare thing about her."

I cocked my head curiously as Hestia went on.

"Sally could see through the Mist," the goddess explained, my eyes widening. "She saw monsters and gods as they truly were. She had no problem believing him when he told her he was a god."

"Why didn't she tell me?" Tears threatened and I dug my nails into my thigh, my cut-off denim shorts shifting up slightly. Hestia gave me a look of sympathy. The compassion she radiated reminded me so much of Mom my lip trembled slightly in longing.

"She wanted to protect you," Hestia explained gently, clasping my hand and rubbing her thumb over it. "Everything she did was to keep you safe."

"How was I safe in that apartment after she married him?" I demanded incredulously.

Mom marrying Gabe had destroyed my world. I remembered her telling me that he was keeping us safe but I still couldn't understand how she could believe that. More than once I had suffered bruises and fractured bones while living with him. I was no fool though, however bad it had been for me, Mom had definitely taken the brunt of it.

Hestia sighed, squeezing my hand softly. "Your scent was strong, even as a baby," she told me quietly. "The first attack came when you were only an infant. Being near Gabe covered your scent enough that monsters mostly ignored you, believing you were a very weak demigod. It wouldn't have worked for long, but Sally would have done anything to keep you safe and with her."

The tears finally spilled over onto my cheeks and I began to sob into my hands. Hestia let go of my hand, and a second later I heard Luke calling my name worriedly. He ran up beside me, falling to his own knees and begging me to say what happened to reduce me to tears. I simply shook my head, leaning forward to bury my head in his collarbone and continue to grieve.

In retrospect, that was probably when I started to love him.


	8. I Capture A Flag

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA. And this chapter, after rechecking it, seems to be heavily influenced by lyricalgurl's Ocean's Wings, shouldn't happen again though. Ana's nickname of Casanova for Luke is also from Ocean's Wings. I recommend reading the story, even if she didn't go past TLT.**

 **Chapter Seven**

**I Capture A Flag and Get A Death Sentence**

The day after my meeting Hestia and subsequent breakdown in Luke's arms, the Camp gathered for Capture the Flag. It was, apparently, a huge deal in Camp. Usually it was played every Friday, but the last game had been so vicious Chiron had suspended it for almost two whole months. It was to be Athena and Ares leading the two teams, and the rest of the cabins were split unevenly into their teams.

Hermes was with Athena, along with Apollo. Ares had all the other cabins, which, I'm fairly sure, was because Annabeth had annoyed all the other counsellors.

Honestly, I had no hope of our team winning. While Apollo and Hermes were definitely the biggest cabins, we were still outnumbered. And there was no one in camp as far as I knew who could be called a bad fighter. A lazy fighter yes, but bad no. Makes sense given how without good combat skills none of us were likely to live to see thirteen. And Ares had the best fighters. So basically, our team was doomed to fail.

"Promise not to humiliate you too badly at your first game," Katie teased me cheerfully. "Wouldn't want to put you off."

"Ha ha," I answered dryly, fiddling with Anaklusmos.

Chiron stamped his hoof on the ground to gain our attention. Katie gave me a quick wink and hurried off to join her siblings at their table.

"Heroes!" Chiron began. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He raised his hands and the tables were suddenly covered in an array of different battle-related equipment. Everything from armour to weapons was laid out, and everyone hastened to grab their things. I turned to look at Luke, pursing my lips.

"I find it incredibly depressing and alarming that I'm getting desensitized to the thought of being permanently maimed or dying painfully now," I stated matter-of-factly to him as I reluctantly accepted the breastplate he handed to me. It fit fine, but I felt clumsy and awkward in it.

Luke flashed me a grin. "Ah, don't worry so much, Sleeping Beauty," he urged. I rolled my eyes at the nickname. "You'll be fine. You're already one of the best sword-fighters in Camp!"

I huffed and, on impulse, took the armour back off. "I can't move properly in it," I insisted stubbornly at Luke's raised eyebrows. He shrugged.

"Your choice I guess," he said, letting it go. "Actually, it's probably a good idea for you not to wear armour or have a shield. You're so tiny, you'd probably collapse from the weight."

"I am _not_ tiny," I grumbled, rolling my sword hilt between my palms.

Luke smirked at me as he plopped a blue-plumed helmet on my head. I glared daggers at him and he pretended to cower in fear. I wacked him with the side of my sword, making him jump back, cursing softly under his breath. I chuckled at him, causing him to make a face.

Annabeth raised her knife, "Blue team, forward!" She cried.

Everyone cheered as we followed her to the south part of the forest. As we arrived at the trees, Luke grabbed my elbow and tugged me away from the others. I frowned in confusion but followed him. For some reason, I trusted him. If almost anyone else had wanted me to go somewhere alone in a forest though, I would've stabbed them, 'no maiming or killing' rule be damned.

"Where are we going, Casanova?" I hissed at him as we slipped softly through the trees. Luke flashed me a smug grin that I itched to smack off his face. I hated the butterflies it caused in my stomach.

"How d'you feel about getting the glory, Sleeping Beauty?" His eyes twinkled cheerfully as I stared at him in surprise.

"What, seriously?" I asked. "How?"

He smirked. "Trust me?" He asked, holding out a hand. I didn't hesitate to take it, looking him in the eye to ensure he knew how serious I was.

"Completely."

His smirk died at my tone as he nodded seriously in recognition of my silent message before he began leading me deeper into the forest.

Far away, I heard the conch horn go off, and I felt adrenaline begin to pump through my veins as we crossed the creek into enemy territory. Luke lead the way, and we ended up knocking out two of the opposing team. A son of Aphrodite and a daughter of Demeter. Frankly, I was just relieved it wasn't any of my friends I came up against.

The sound of metal clashing and some seriously creative cursing in both Ancient Greek and English told us that the rest of our team was keeping our way clear for us as we snuck through the trees. At one point, I was sure that we were being watched, but I couldn't see anything so I let it go, instead concentrating on not making any noise that would alert the reds to us.

Finally, we arrived at a clearing that had two Ares boys, I'm fairly sure their names were Sherman Yang and Mark Something, and the flag. Luke and I exchanged glances, a plan forming silently between us before he flung himself out of the underbrush where we were crouched. I waited until they were distracted before attacking Sherman's back.

A well-placed hit to the back of his neck knocked him out, and he slumped just in time to let me see Luke take out Mark. He turned to grin at me.

"Good work, Sleeping Beauty," he told me approvingly. I arched an eyebrow at him in reply, jerking my head toward the flag.

"Are you gonna grab it or not, Casanova?" I drawled. "I thought this game was win or die for you."

He laughed and grabbed the cloth. To my surprise, he then wrapped it around me like a cape. "You carry it," he urged me. "You deserve to be cheered for."

I swallowed and nodded. "Let's go then," I muttered, my throat feeling tight at the look in his blue eyes. He grasped my hand and we began rushing back through the trees. The flag was quickly spotted and soon we were being chased by everyone on the north side. The reds were trying to stop us while the blues were trying to help us. By the time that Luke and I stumbled out at the edge of the lake, my chest was heaving from the race.

Across the creek, five more Ares campers, including Clarisse, were fighting Annabeth. She was obviously losing, with the five of them simply continuing for the hell of it. For some reason, there was a Yankees cap lying half in the water, with the Ares kids blocking Annabeth from getting to it.

Spotting our arrival, the five broke off their fight and rushed to try and stop us. They were too late.

Proving that he was completely obsessed with this crazy game, and also that he wanted me to kill him, Luke grabbed me by the waist and literally _threw_ me over the creek, with me shrieking curses all the way. As soon as I landed hard on my shoulder on the south side of the creek, the blue team burst into cheers of victory. Chiron blew the horn, signalling the blue team had won. My eyes widened in surprise as I realized that the flag had magically changed from red with Ares' symbol to silver with a caduceus.

"Need a hand?" Luke helped me to my feet. I sent him a furious death glare, but before I could punch him or tell him off for throwing me like I was a softball, Annabeth came storming up with a look of rage on her face.

"What the heck?" She snarled at me, her furious voice causing the whole group to fall silent as they stared at us. I stared at her, utterly bewildered at the sudden verbal attack. Beside me, Luke's pleased smile turned into a scowl of unhappiness.

"Excuse me?" I asked blinking at her.

"Why weren't you guarding the creek like you were supposed to?" She demanded angrily. "I nearly got killed because _you_ wanted the glory and didn't follow orders!"

"Enough Annabeth!" Luke cut in, looking angrier than I'd ever seen him before. "Ana was with me because I told her to come with me. I didn't tell her about you wanting her to guard the border."

I shot him a bemused look, wondering what he was talking about. Annabeth gave him a betrayed look and despite myself, I felt a bit of pity for her.

"Why would you do that?" She asked him, voice full of hurt.

I glanced around us, feeling a prickling going up my spine. Everyone was watching silently and warily as the conversation continued. No one else seemed to feel the danger I sensed. I might've dismissed it, but I trusted my instincts. I braced myself, thumbing my sword and continuing to search the forest with my eyes as Luke and Annabeth went on.

"I didn't send her on border patrol because I _know_ you, Annabeth," Luke's voice was stern as he stared her down. She shifted slightly at his unwavering gaze.

"You wanted her on border patrol because you were counting on her getting hurt by going up against Clarisse and the guys when she's still so new. I didn't want that to happen, so Malcolm and I talked and came up with a new plan. We knew that you'd be nearby to make sure no one got past so we figured it'd be better if Ana came with me. Annabeth what's going on with you? You never used to be like this before."

Annabeth's eyes grew wet at Luke's question. "Well it's _not_ before, is it?" She bitterly countered. "Th-She's gone and you're trailing after _her_ ," she jerked her head at me. "Like some kind of pathetic lost puppy."

Before anything else could happen, a growl split the air. Everyone scrambled to raise their weapons, Chiron calling out in Greek, " _Stand ready! My bow!_ "

A large dog, and by large, I mean that it was about the size of an army truck, came bounding out of the trees, knocking the kids in its' way aside like they were made of plastic. It was looking and coming straight at me.

"Ana, run!" Luke yelled, trying to get to me. The hellhound was faster though, leaping right over him and landing in front of me.

A scream of pain was ripped out of me as it raked its' claws across my chest and I had the vague impression of falling backwards into the water as a dozen arrows suddenly pierced the hound's side. It dissolved into a cloud of gold dust and Luke's face was instantly in front of me, looking panicked and terrified.

"Ana, Ana, can you hear me?" He frantically asked. Will came into my line of sight, pushing Luke out of the way to look me over.

"Di immortales, Chiron," I heard Lou Ellen exclaiming. "How did a hellhound get into Camp?"

"Someone obviously summoned it," Clarisse snapped with a stony voice. "Specifically to go after Ana, by the looks of it. It didn't even glance at the rest of us."

"Is she okay, Will?" Silena's tone was frantic as she, Chiron, and my other friends hurried toward me. Will had a grim look in his eyes as he studied me.

"Help me get her into the water more," he ordered lowly. A ripple of confusion went around at his instructions and I felt dread building in me. As soon as I was submerged to my chest, Luke helping keep my head up, I felt my energy start to return. My wound started to knit back together even as we watched. Within minutes, I was fine and stepping back out of the clear creek.

There was another round of gasps and everyone started to bow, staring at a spot just above my head. Trembling in fear and horrified realization, I looked up. Spinning in a circle just over me, was a silver trident.

"It is determined," Chiron announced, wearing a grim expression. "Poseidon, Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Anaea Jackson, Daughter of the Sea God."


	9. A Questing I Will Go Ugh

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA**

 **Chapter Eight**

**A Questing I Will Go. Ugh.**

I spent the first few hours after being claimed throwing up in the medical section of the Big House. As soon as the trident had faded away, my group of friends, all of whom I officially loved, had gotten me away from everybody. Just after exiting the forest, Luke's earlier explanation about the Big Three childrens' powers, and the prophecy, started playing in my mind on repeat. That's when my knees gave out and I got sick.

They rushed me to the infirmary, where I vomited each time the words repeated themselves. They all tried to calm me down, but their tones, similar to what you'd use to speak to someone with a terminal illness, only made things worse. Eventually, I had thrown up so much that blood was mixed in with the bile. Will announced that I had torn the lining of my stomach, and he injected me with a sedative. Unfortunately, it didn't stop my dreams.

 _I dreamed that I was running along a beach during a vicious storm. There was city I didn't recognize behind me, with buildings spread out all over the place, palm trees and low hills in the distance beyond them._

 _About a hundred yards down the surf, two men were fighting. They looked like TV wrestlers, but with beards and long hair. Both wore flowing Greek tunics, one lined with blue, the other with green. They grappled furiously with each other, wrestling, kicking and headbutting each other. Every time that they connected with each other, lightning flashed, the sky grew even darker, and the wind rose._

 _I knew that I had to stop them, though I didn't know why. But the harder I ran, the more the wind blew me back, until I was running in place, my heels digging uselessly in the sand._

 _Over the roar of the storm, I could hear the blue-robed one yelling at the green-robed one. "Give it back! Give it back!" He sounded like a kindergartener fighting over a toy. This was far more serious than a child's tantrum though. They were going to destroy the whole place if they didn't stop._

 _"Stop!" I tried to call, the wind snatching my words away. "Stop fighting!"_

 _The waves grew got bigger, crashing into the beach and spraying me with salt as the ground shook ominously._

 _Laughter sounded from somewhere beneath the earth, and a voice, ancient, powerful and full of evil, spoke._

 _"Come down, little heroine," the voice crooned, making my blood turn cold from fear. "Come down!"_

 _The sand split beneath me, opening up a crevice straight down into the centre of the earth. I slipped, and started to fall into the darkness._

I shot upright, gasping desperately for air, and certain that I was still falling to my death. Instead, I found myself in a room I didn't recognize, but guessed was Cabin Three.

Counting the one I was in, there were six beds, and the walls glowed like abalone. Seashell patterns decorated the walls and the room gave off a general air of being underwater. It also felt distressingly lonely after years of shared rooms.

My bag was resting at the end of the bed and I relaxed as I saw Luke by my bedside, head on his arms.

I cleared my throat, summoning my hoarse voice to wake him. "Luke. Luke, wake up." He shifted and pushed himself up, blinking and wiping his eyes tiredly.

He gave me a smile, his eyes filled with worry. I couldn't even twitch my lips.

"Poseidon," I said flatly. He nodded, the worried look strengthening.

"Yes."

"God of the Seas, the Stormbringer. Earthshaker. Didn't you say one of his children once killed over a hundred people after causing an earthquake?"

He hesitated for a moment before taking my hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "It's gonna be alright, Ana. We're gonna figure this out, okay? Everything's gonna be fine."

"How can this be fine in any way?" I demanded shrilly. "I'm possibly prophesied to destroy the whole damn world!"

"We're gonna figure it out," he insisted. "We will Ana. We just need to not panic."

I huffed in frustration, but before I could reply, there was an urgent knocking at the door.

"Oh great," I grumbled sulkily. "Maybe it's someone coming to say that I'm going to executed for my parents forgetting protection."

Amusement flashed over Luke's face as he headed to answer the frantic banging. "You're not gonna be executed, Sleeping Beauty. The gods love pretty faces too much to get rid of yours."

My jaw dropped as I sputtered for a reply, feeling my ears burn in embarrassment as Luke opened the door just in time for Grover's fist to smash into his face. I burst out laughing, my mood significantly improved by the scene.

"Ow! Grover, what in Tartarus?" Luke complained, holding his now bleeding nose. "Oh, thanks so much for your help Ana," he added as I continued to chuckle, holding my sides. I waved him off, regaining my breath with effort.

"Don't worry about it," I choked out. He made a face, as Grover waved both his arms, struggling to catch his own breath as he did so.

"Ana needs," he gasped out. "Go to Big House. Now."

My smirk disappeared and I felt as if I was going to get sick again. Luke also tensed, his jaw tightening as he glanced back at me, offering his hand. I held onto it like a lifeline as we headed to the Big House.

It felt like everyone was staring at me as we passed. Annabeth was surrounded by several of her siblings, sneering at me as I hurried past.

"Sea spawn," one of them muttered. I arched an eyebrow slightly.

"Oh, don't tell they suddenly all hate me because of the Athena-Poseidon feud," I muttered to Luke after leaving earshot. He answered as he frowned over his shoulder at them.

"Don't ask me to explain the sense," he instructed me. "I've never seen the point in fighting our parents' arguments, but most do unfortunately."

I scowled. "Great, that's just what I need," I sulked. He gave me a quick hug as we darted up the porch steps of the Big House.

Thunder rumbled as we rounded the corner. We all stopped to stare at the cloud creeping over our home in shock and dismay.

"How's that possible?" I asked tensely. "Katie told me that Camp has magic controlling its' weather."

Luke licked his lips nervously. "The gods must be angry," he replied in a strained voice.

I swallowed and dusted off my battered jeans. I could see various campers huddled together and whispering. No doubt all of them had figured out the cause of the gods' anger.

"Well hurry up," Mr. D demanded grumpily, attracting our attention. "We haven't got all day you know."

The headed over to the table, and while Luke leaned against the railing with his arms crossed, and Grover pulled out a pack of cards to eat anxiously, I crossed my arms and stared at them. I raised my chin and took on the stubborn expression that had driven many a social worker and foster parent to fits of frustration with my 'untameable ways'.

"What don't we have all day for?" I'm sure I sounded very petulant, but I was too stressed to care right then. Chiron gave me a sympathetic smile, gesturing to the chair opposite. Chiron was the only authority figure I really cared about or respected, and I didn't want to disappoint him, so I slumped down into it. With my expression, and crossed arms, I'm sure that I looked like a sulking child who was denied a treat.

Mr. D narrowed his purple eyes at me. "Don't expect me to go kow-towing to you just because old Barnacle Beard is your father," he warned me. The sky rumbled dangerously and he gave it a contemptuous look. "Blah, blah, blah," he grumbled. "If I had my way," Dionysus said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."

"Spontaneous combustion _is_ a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in as I shifted warily, and Luke tensed.

"Nonsense," Dionysus scoffed, waving a and dismissively. "Girl wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father."

"Mr. D—" Chiron warned.

"Oh, all right," Dionysus relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the girl is still here when I get back, I'll turn her into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Anaea Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do."

Dionysus picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a plastic rectangle. A credit card? No. A security pass. He snapped his fingers. The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, then he was gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind.

Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. "Sit, boys, please." They did, tension radiating from all of us.

Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use.

"Tell me, Ana," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

Just hearing the name made me shudder. "Terrified," I admitted frankly. "If you hadn't shot it, and Will gotten me into the water, I'd be dead."

"You'll meet worse, Ana. Far worse, before you're done." Luke wrapped an arm protectively around my shoulders, and I was fiercely grateful for his support.

"Done ... with what?"

"Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?"

I glanced to my sides at Grover, who was crossing his fingers, and Luke, who's expression had darkened. He looked like only his deep respect for Chiron was keeping him yelling at the top of his lungs. Luke had been the last person to go on a quest, I knew. Something had happened, earning him the scar on his cheek, but I didn't know what.

"Um, sir," I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling sick again. "You haven't told me what it is yet."

Chiron grimaced. "Well, that's the hard part, the details."

Thunder rumbled across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I could see, the sky and the sea were boiling together.

"Poseidon and Zeus," I ventured warily. "They're fighting over something valuable ... something that was stolen, aren't they?".

The others exchanged looks.

Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?"

My ears felt hot again. I wished I hadn't opened my damn mouth. "The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Lou Ellen, and she'd overheard something about a theft. And ... I've also been having these dreams."

"I knew it," Grover said. Luke cursed, shoving away from the table and starting to pace. I bit my lip in worry.

"Hush, satyr," Chiron ordered. "Luke, calm down."

"But it _is_ her quest!" Grover's eyes were bright with excitement. "It must be!"

"It's too dangerous!" Luke exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "She's only been training for about a month! She could get killed, I can't believe you two are even suggesting this. It's crazy."

Chiron gave them both a scolding look. "Only the Oracle can determine whether it is Ana's quest or not." Chiron stroked his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, Ana, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."

I laughed nervously. "A what? But it's not like you can hold lightning bolts or anything."

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."

"Oh," I felt weaker than a newborn kitten, and more frightened than ever. I really didn't like where this talk of missing lightning bolts and quests was going. Nowhere good, anyway.

"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."

"And it's missing?"

"Stolen," Chiron said.

"By who?"

"By whom," Chiron corrected. Once a teacher, always a teacher. "By you."

My mouth fell open, my temper flaring at the injustice. It wasn't the first time that I'd been accused of something I didn't do, but I was still hurt that Chiron would say such a thing.

"At least"—Chiron held up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best', 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

"But I _didn't_ —"

"Patience and listen, child," Chiron told me sternly. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his daughter. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief."

"But I've never even _been_ to Olympus! Why would someone even want to steal his bloody bolt? He's crazy!"

Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds were rolling straight over our valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid.

"Er, Ana ...?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."

"Probably not the best thing for your health, Sleeping Beauty," Luke agreed. I scowled at both of them, too upset at the accusations to care about things like caution.

"Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggested. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your winter exam..." He looked at me as if he actually expected me to remember which was question thirty-eight.

"The golden net?" I guessed, thinking of the different stories I knew to figure out which was most likely. This seemed to be the best fit. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods trapped Zeus in one and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?"

"Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw."

"Because it's my fault I was born," I hissed bitterly. I glared darkly at the sky, cursing men in general but avoiding using Zeus' name so as not to be blasted to smithereens.

" _Did_ he steal it?" I suddenly asked. "It doesn't seem likely. Why would he? And why now?"

Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date.

I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Ana?"

I bit my lip, shifting uncomfortably. "Bad?"

"Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight."

"Bad," I repeated. I was too panicked to be eloquent.

"And you, Ana Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."

It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky. Luke came over to me, wrapping his arm back around my shoulders in solidarity.

I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of me. I had never been so furious.

"So I have to find the damn bolt," I huffed. "And return it to Zeus."

"What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the daughter of Poseidon return Zeus's property?"

"One slight problem," I pointed out. "I don't know where the thing is."

"I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago ... well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."

"Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?"

"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."

I swallowed. "Good reason."

"You agree then?"

I looked at Grover, who nodded encouragingly. Luke squeezed my shoulders in silent support. I squared my shoulders. I'd learned long ago that screaming about fairness did nothing.

"All right," I said, flipping a lock of hair back over my shoulder. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."

"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Ana, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."

Very encouraging, and cheerful too. Gotta love millennia old centaurs.

Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor.

I pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place.  
The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood and something else ... a smell I remembered from biology class. Reptiles. The smell of snakes.

I held my breath and climbed.

The attic was filled with Greek hero junk: armour stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying ITHAKA, CIRCE'S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled things—severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, various other parts of monsters. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake's head, but with horns and a full set of shark's teeth. The plaque read, HYDRA HEAD #1, WOODSTOCK, N.Y., 1969. All this stuff would've made the Camp millions if it was sold on eBay to those Internet freaks.

By the window, sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was the most gruesome memento of all: a mummy. Not the wrapped-in-cloth kind, but a human female body shrivelled to a husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits, as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles; she'd been dead a long, long time.

Looking at her sent chills up my back. And that was before she sat up on her stool and opened her mouth. A green mist poured from the mummy's mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty thousand snakes. Inside my head, I heard a voice, slithering into one ear and coiling around my brain: _I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask._

I forced myself to take a deep breath, shuddering in disgust.

The mummy wasn't alive. She was some kind of gruesome receptacle for something else, the power that was now swirling around me in the green mist. But its presence didn't feel evil, like my demonic math teacher Mrs. Dodds or the Minotaur. It felt more like the Three Fates I'd seen knitting the yarn outside the highway fruit stand: ancient, powerful, and definitely not human. But not particularly interested in killing me, either.

I got up the courage to ask, "How do I find Zeus' bolt?"

The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of me and around the table with the pickled monster-part jars. Suddenly there were four men sitting around the table, playing cards. Their faces became clearer. It was my ex-stepfather Gabe at a poker party with his buddies. Before going to prison, he'd had those damn things every fucking day, making me and Mom act like his servants during them, serving the drinks and giving him our money as funds. Gods, how I hated the bastard.

My fists clenched, though I knew this poker party couldn't be real. It was an illusion, made out of mist.

Gabe turned toward me and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle: _You shall go west, and face the god who has turned._

His buddy on the right looked up and said in the same voice _: You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned._

The guy on the left threw in two poker chips, then said: _You shall be betrayed by one who a friend calls a friend._

Finally, a guy I recognized dimly as Eddie, our old building super, delivered the worst line of all: _And war shall begin, in the end._

The figures began to dissolve. At first I was too stunned to say anything, but as the mist retreated, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the mummy, I cried, "Wait! What do you mean? Who's going to betray me? Why would war start even if I get the bolt back?"

The tail of the mist snake disappeared into the mummy's mouth. She reclined back against the wall. Her mouth closed tight, as if it hadn't been open in a hundred years. The attic was silent again, abandoned, nothing but a room full of mementos.

I got the feeling that I could stand here until I had cobwebs, too, and I wouldn't learn anything else. My audience with the Oracle was over.

"Well?" Chiron asked me.

"Are you okay, Ana?" Luke asked me worriedly. "Visiting the Oracle's rough. Have a sip of water."

I accepted the glass he handed me as i slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen."

Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!"

"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important."

My ears were still tingling from the reptilian voice. "She, she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned."

"I knew it," Grover declared, looking gleeful. Easy for him, he wasn't responsible for saving the world before even becoming an official teenager.

Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

I didn't want to tell him. Who would betray me? I didn't know, and I didn't want to hurt any of my friends by claiming that someone they cared for would be a traitor.

And the last line—I would fail to stop war breaking out. What kind of Oracle would send me on a quest and tell me, Oh, by the way, you'll fail. How could I confess that? How could I tell them it was all hopeless?

I shook my head, one of the two short braids beside my face striking my cheek and feeling more uncomfortable than they ever had before. "No," I said. "That's about it."

He studied my face. "Very well, Ana. But know this: The Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

I got the feeling he knew I was holding back something bad, and he was trying to make me feel better.

"Okay," I agreed, anxious to change topics. "So where do I go? Who's this god in the west?"

"Ah, think, Ana," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?"

"Somebody else who wants to take over?" I guessed. Personally, I didn't get it. Everyone in power seemed pretty miserable to me from the papers and stories, but I guess there had to be some sort of attraction to it. You'd think they'd figure out how useless it was eventually though. Chiron spoke, regaining my drifting attention.

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbours a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."

I thought about how I'd been attacked first by a Kindly One, a servant of only one god, and I bit my lip. "Hades."

Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

Fury and grief flashed over Luke's face and he clenched his fists tightly. Hades, I remembered, had been the one to send the horde of monsters that overwhelmed and killed Thalia on the hill six years ago. Luke probably despised the Lord of the Dead more than any other immortal.

A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?"

"A Fury came after Ana," Chiron reminded him. "She watched her until she was sure of her identity, then tried to kill her. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Ana is a daughter of Poseidon-"

"That still doesn't tell us how he got the Bolt in the first place," Luke added, his jaw tense. "He still needed a hero to steal it."

"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Ana to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before she can take on the quest."

"Great," I muttered. "That's two major gods who want to kill me."

"But a quest to ..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Ana must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

"What if it wasn't him though?" I asked. Chiron looked patiently at me as I struggled to think. It was always so hard to just sit and force my thoughts into words, though Mom had always been amazing a verbalization.

"Mrs. Dodds was asking where is _it_ ," I pointed out, thinking back on my encounter with the monster. "And you don't have any proof against Hades, do you? If you did, you'd have taken it to Zeus. What if your hunch is wrong, and Hades doesn't have it? There isn't time to search all of America, but guessing is just as bad! We can't afford to be risking World War III on a guess!"

My voice had gotten hysterical as the words of the prophecy echoed in my ears. I could feel tears welling in my green eyes as the stress pressed on my shoulders. I was _twelve_ for Olympus' sake, having the fate of the world on my shoulders was too damn much. I felt crippled with fear at the thought of failing, because if I didn't get the Bolt to Olympus in time, billions of innocent people would die, and it would be all my fault.

Luke pulled me into a strong hug, I felt oddly protected in his arms. It wasn't a feeling that I was used to, not since Mom died. Chiron and Grover looked at me, Chiron full of understanding sympathy, and Grover with worry for me.

"Ana, I know that this is far more pressure than you should have ever had to bare," Chiron told me gently. He reached out, grasping my hand as he spoke. "But I am not just choosing you for this quest because of your parentage, I'm choosing you because I have faith that you can succeed in this. You're strong, and a survivor. You can do this."

"Going to the Underworld isn't just a hunch, Ana," Luke added, turning our hug into a side-embrace so he was still holding me while we faced the others. "We know that you'll find the Bolt in the west, so we just need to go in that direction. And it _is_ we," he insisted firmly. "Go without me, and I'll sneak out after you. I'm helping, whether you like it or not, got it?"

"And me too!" Grover declared, looking utterly terrified. "And it's not about the license. It's cause you're my friend, and I'm not letting you go into danger without me to help."

A smile quirked the corners of my lips as they spoke. "My mom would've liked you two," I informed them shakily. It was the highest compliment that I could give them and they knew it, faces brightening at my words. Chiron smiled at me as I squared my shoulders and looked him in the eye.

"When do we leave?"


	10. Three Questers Get on a Bus

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA**

 **Chapter Nine**

**Three Questers Got On a Bus, and Then Blew it Up**

Several hours later, my friends arrived at my new cabin to say our goodbyes.

"You'd better come back alive, Sea Princess," Clarisse took the lead and scooped me into a surprising, and tight, hug. "You're the only other decent fighter in Camp."

My lips twitched as I nodded to her firmly. "Like I'm gonna let myself be killed," I declared in an overly-haughty way, pretending to flip my hair. (It was currently in an elaborate twist to keep it out of the way, so I couldn't do so in reality.) "I could never deprive the world of my amazingness!"

The others chuckled, Silena, Lou and Katie rather wetly, as Katie took over the embrace.

"Be careful," she sniffed as she pulled back, Silena grabbing me tightly.

I hugged them all, before Silena handed me a pretty purple backpack. "We've put everything that you'll need in it," she told me, wiping her wet cheeks.

"There's about fifty drachmae, five hundred dollars, a spare knife and lockpicking set, a fully-equipped medkit, some clothes and food, and a small tent," Beckendorf listed off. "There's a few Ancient Greek books as well to entertain you on the bus and stuff too. The bag's enchanted to stay light, and it's pretty impervious to almost everything, so just don't forget about it on the train, okay?"

My own eyes filled with tears for what seemed like the millionth time. "You guys are the best," I declared, going in for another round of hugging. Afterwards, there was a knock on the door and Grover stuck his head around. He was pale and anxious, eating a pack of cards nervously.

"Ready, Ana?"

 _'Not in the slightest,'_ I thought. The sight of my friends energized me though. I didn't care about Zeus' bolt, or my father's reputation, or anything like that. But I cared about them. I didn't want them to be hurt, and they would be if I didn't prevent this war. I lifted my chin, wearing my signature expression of defiance, nodding crisply.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I said, straightening my leatherette jacket and swinging my new bag onto my shoulder. "Let's go."

We headed in the direction of the Hill, passing the other cabins on the way. Just beside the Hermes cabin, we all caught Luke and Annabeth on the tail end of what seemed like a vicious argument. Annabeth was tearful and Luke was obviously upset, but resolute too.

"I'm sorry you're hurt Bethy," Luke said, grasping her shoulders. "But I won't change my mind on this."

"Be careful," she sniffled. She handed him her Yankees cap, making him grin sadly at her as he tucked it into his jeans back pocket.

"I will," he promised. He glanced up, spotting us waiting for him, and pulled her into a quick embrace. She hugged him tightly for a minute before they separated and Luke gave her a quick goodbye as he headed over to us quickly.

The grin he gave me didn't reach his eyes as he hurried up to us. "Ready to go, Sleeping Beauty?" He winked at me. Deciding not to mention what we'd just seen, I huffed and pretended to flip my hair again.

"Oh gods, I've changed my mind!" I announced, continuing quickly and distracting the others. I could see their curiosity over what Luke and Annabeth had been discussing fading into amusement at my dramatics. "If I'm stuck hanging around you any longer, I'll lose my mind. I wanna take someone else!"

The others chuckled while Luke faked a hurt look, clutching his heart area.

"How could you say such a thing Sleeping Beauty? I'm the best company at Camp!"

Clarisse narrowed her eyes at him, waving her electric spear threateningly at him. "You wanna repeat that, Castellan?"

Luke's cheeky smirk faltered at her warning look, and he shifted nervously, glancing around. Unfortunately for him, we'd just arrived at the base of the hill, and he was surrounded.

"Uh," he muttered, eyeing her warily and grasping his sword pommel while the rest of us watched his discomfort in amusement. "You guys are terrible friends," he complained, making us all laugh again.

"Maybe to you," Katie retorted sassily, before turning to me and going serious again. "Be careful, Ana," she begged me, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Yeah, Sea Princess," Travis agreed, taking over the embrace. "And keep our brother safe too, okay?" He added quietly. I nodded as I went into Connor's embrace.

"I'll try," I agreed.

"If Ana comes back with any damage, Castellan, you're gonna pay for it," Clarisse threatened Luke, who looked bewildered and nervous.

"Why're you threatening me?" He protested as I said my final goodbyes to Lou Ellen and Silena, both of whom seemed to be holding back tears.

"Because I don't like you," Clarisse replied bluntly.

"That hurts, Clarisse, it really hurts, right here," Luke joked, pointing at his heart. She scoffed and waved her spear at him, making him jump back.

"That's enough now," Chiron ordered mildly, stepping up to us. The others gave us (mostly me) one last round of hugs before walking off. I heard Silena and Katie burst into tears as they walked off, and the Stolls pulled them into supportive hugs. I turned to Chiron, trying to suppress the sick feeling in my stomach.

He gave a gentle smile, waving us up the hill towards Thalia's Pine. At the bottom, I could see Argus standing beside one of the camp's SUVs, that was going to take us to the bustop.

"Luke, Grover, if the two of you would head down to the car, I need to speak to Ana for a minute," Chiron gently instructed the two boys. They nodded, descending the slope. Neither of us spoke until they had reached the bottom.

"It's no accident Poseidon has claimed you now," Chiron finally spoke. "It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you."

"You're saying he's using me," I answered flatly, shifting my backpack.

"I'm saying that your father needs you," Chiron corrected me gently. I shrugged back.

"I'm not doing this for him," I insisted firmly. "I'm doing it to stop the world being destroyed. I don't care about my father."

His lips turned down, and I felt a surge of guilt at disappointing him. "You might think that your father has done nothing for you, Ana," he told me. "But he is the one who gave me Anaklusmos, to give to you."

I glanced at him and asked something that had been bothering me since I'd learned my father was a god.

"Do the Ancient Laws forbid helping a former lover?"

Chiron looked surprised for a moment before realization flashed over his expression. He shook his head, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, lifting my chin.

"I don't care about my father," I repeated flatly, making him sigh heavily and nod. I gave him a thoughtful look.

"You've known I'm Poseidon's daughter all along, haven't you?"

He pursed his lips as he replied. "I had my suspicions, but I wasn't sure. Poseidon has had immortal daughters before, but only ever demigod sons. You are unique."

I nodded silently, inhaling deeply. "Goodbye Chiron."

He smiled back as I started making my way down the slope.

"Goodbye Ana, and the Gods be with you."

When I was in the car, and glancing back, I saw Chiron, once again in centaur form. His bow was raised in salute as we sped off.

* * *

After weeks of Camp Half-Blood, the 'normal' world was a shock. I found myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parents' car, every billboard and shopping mall. Luke caught me, and gave me an understanding smile.

"Feels strange, right?" He asked me with a knowing tone. I nodded, my gaze following a woman walking her dog for a minute longer before I shook it off and turned to him.

"It's weird," I told him sincerely. "Hard to believe I didn't believe in any of this a month ago."

He nodded back at me, with an odd look in his eye. "Actually, my mom never hid who my father was from me," he admitted. "I've always known, so I guess it's a bit different for me."

I could easily tell his mother was a sore topic, and I knew all about familial troubles, so I tactfully changed the subject to a sword technique he had been showing me. It was the right decision, because Luke instantly brightened and we spent the rest of the journey talking about the subject.

At the bus stop, we spent a while playing Hackey Sack with one of Grover's apples, until he ate our ball. After that, I had no distraction from the fact that I was barely ten minutes walk away from my mom and stepfather's old apartment. I wondered what she would have thought, knowing I was responsible for stopping World War III, and if she knew that I wasn't supposed to be born.

"You okay, Ana?" Grover asked me a low tone. I faked a smile, sure he could see right through me.

"I'm fine," I claimed. It was completely true. After all, as my old social worker once said: FINE stands for Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. Grover gave me a doubtful look, reminding me that he'd recently said something about satyrs reading emotions, but let it go as Luke came back up with a map of American train and bus lines in hand.

"All good?"

I nodded, a stubborn set to my jaw as our Greyhound pulled up. As we stood in line to board, I noticed that Grover was sniffing the air, glancing around with an anxious expression.

"What's wrong?" I asked lowly, noticing Luke stiffen as he heard my words.

"I don't know," Grover replied tensely. "Maybe nothing."

I could tell it wasn't nothing, and so did Luke. We both kept looking around for danger, and I worried over having to fight while surrounded by mortals. Finally we were on the bus, in seats about half-way down. Grover and I were about to stow our things, but Luke stopped us.

"We might need to leave in a hurry," he muttered. "Better off keeping them on our laps for a quick getaway."

We nodded and settled in. My ADHD made it impossible to sit still, especially when nervous, so I started tapping my thigh in a random pattern. Luke had taken out the Yankees cap that Annabeth had given him, and was patting it on his thigh repeatedly. Suddenly he clamped down on my thigh, stopping my fingers in mid-tap.

"Ana!" He hissed. I looked up, and my heart leapt into my throat.

It was Mrs. Dodds, looking exactly the same as when she was my teacher. And there were two other old ladies, who were dressed, and looked identical to her. The only difference was their differently coloured hats.

"Di immortales," I breathed, barely realizing that I'd sworn in Greek. "All three of them!" Grover moaned in horror, staring at the Kindly Ones in terror.

They sat in the front row, just behind the driver's seat. Two of them crossed their legs over the aisle in an 'X' shape. To the mortals, it looked like a casual movement, I'm sure. I, however, saw the true meaning. Nobody leaves.

"Shouldn't she still be reforming?" I whispered, scrunching down in my seat as much as I could. Grover was shaking and muttering prayers to various gods beside me. If all of them wanted me dead because of this whole prophecy thing, then I doubted he was gonna get anywhere with that road.

"Usually it takes a few years," Luke agreed quietly, scanning the bus for a way out of our situation. "But not always. She's probably really pissed at you though."

"Fantastic. Is there an emergency exit we can use?"

It was in the roof, and there was no way that we could get to it without attracting attention. There was no back exit either, and the windows were screwed shut. Worst design _ever_! It's like they didn't even consider the possibility of three questers needing an escape route from several deadly monsters! The stupidity! I mean come on. Have a bit of foresight people!

"Okay," Luke breathed, "Put Annabeth's hat on. You'll turn invisible and be able to sneak by them."

"What about you?"

"We'll be fine. It's not us that they're after. Seriously Ana, go!" With that, he shoved the cap on to my head.

I felt awful abandoning them, but Luke was right that the Kindly Ones were after me. I started creeping up the aisle, swinging my bag back over my shoulder. I got up ten rows, then ducked into an empty aisle to avoid bumping into Mrs. Dodds. She paused, turning to look in my direction whilst sniffing the air. My heart was in my throat as I stood stock still. Finally, she turned away continued shuffling down the aisle with her sisters. I slumped in relief.

I was free. I made it to the front of the bus. We were almost through the Lincoln Tunnel now. I was about to press the emergency stop button when I heard hideous wailing from the back row.

The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—I guess those couldn't get any uglier— but their bodies had shrivelled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surrounded Grover and Luke, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"  
The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, all right.

"She's not here!" Luke yelled. "She's gone!"

The Furies raised their whips. Luke drew his sword. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it.

What I did next was so impulsive and dangerous I should've been named ADHD poster child of the year.

The bus driver was distracted, trying to see what was going on in his rearview mirror.

Still invisible, I grabbed the wheel from him and jerked it to the left. Everybody howled as they were thrown to the right, and I heard what I hoped was the sound of three Furies smashing against the windows.

"Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!"

We wrestled for the wheel. The bus slammed against the side of the tunnel, grinding metal, throwing sparks a mile behind us.

We careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins.

Somehow the driver found an exit. Really he should've gotten a commendation for that. We shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barrelling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to our left, the Hudson River to our right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river.

Another great (awful) idea: I hit the emergency brake.

The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one out, the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him. I stepped into the driver's seat and let them pass.

The Furies regained their balance. They lashed their whips at Luke while he waved his sword around and yelled threats in Ancient Greek. Grover threw tin cans.

I looked at the open doorway. I was free to go, but I couldn't leave my friends. I took off the invisible cap. "Hey!"

The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at me, and the exit suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle, just as she used to do in class, about to deliver my F maths test. Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather.

Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward me like huge nasty lizards.

"Anaea Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere farther south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die."

"I liked you better as a maths teacher," I told her.

She growled. I guess that teaching a bunch of delinquent teens maths wasn't a period of time she wanted to remember.

Luke and Grover moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening.

I unpinned my pin from my hair and twisted the emerald. Anaklusmos elongated into a shimmering double-edged sword, making the Furies hesitate.

Mrs. Dodds had felt Anaklusmos' blade before. She obviously didn't like seeing it again.

"Submit now," she hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment."

"Sounds boring," I told her sincerely.

"Ana, look out!" Luke cried.

Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around my sword hand while the Furies on the either side lunged at me.

My hand felt like it was wrapped in molten lead, but I managed not to drop Anaklusmos. I stuck the Fury on the left with its hilt, sending her toppling backward into a seat. I turned and sliced the Fury on the right. As soon as the blade connected with her neck, she screamed and exploded into dust. Luke got Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands. I don't know why Luke didn't attack her with his sword but there you go. I suppose half-bloods aren't exactly know for thinking things through.

"Ow!" Grover yelled. "Ow! Hot! Hot!"

The Fury I'd hilt-slammed came at me again, talons ready, but I swung Anaklusmos and she broke open like a piñata.

Mrs. Dodds was trying to get Luke off her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Luke held on with all the stubbornness of a suicidal demigod while Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up in her own whip. Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down.

"Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!"

"Braccas meas vescimini!" I yelled.

I wasn't sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant "Eat my pants!"

Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of my neck.

"Get out!" Luke yelled at me frantically, grabbing his and Grover's bags. "Now!" I didn't need any encouragement.

We rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped my photograph before I could stow my sword.

There was a sudden, loud boom that made Luke grab me and shield me with his body as the windows of the bus while the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead.

"Run!" Luke urged with a panicked expression. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"

We plunged into the woods as the rain poured down, the bus in flames behind us, and nothing but darkness ahead.


	11. I Develop A Fear of Garden Gnomes

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA**

 **Chapter Ten**

 **I Develop a Fear of Garden Gnomes**

In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day.

So there we were, Luke and Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses.

Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Luke kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better."

"Do you think anyone was hurt?" I worried. "What if someone got hurt?"

"Ana, I get why you're upset," Luke said tensely, continuing to tug me through the trees. "But we need to focus on getting away from there."

I bit my lip but nodded. He flashed me that smile that I really hated, the tender one that made my ears heat up even more than the cheeky one did.

"It was really brave, coming back to help us," he told me, releasing my wrist to wrap his arm around my shoulders. "You're a good person you know."

I gave him a weak smile in reply. "Yeah, well, imagine what'd happen if the Stolls were left in charge of Cabin 11," I tried to joke. "There'd be nothing left."

He snorted and nodded, giving me a squeeze. The thunderstorm finally began to let up, and I sighed in relief, adjusting my backpack.

"Good call, getting us to keep our packs with us," I said tiredly to him. "We'd've been in trouble otherwise."

"Yeah, well, been there, done that," he grimaced. My eyes flickered to the scar on his face.

"When you went on your quest?"

He stiffened slightly and I immediately regretted asking.

"You don't have to-" I began but he cut me off with a mild head shake.

"No, actually. When Thalia, Annabeth and I were on the run, we didn't have a lot. Thank the gods I'm a natural thief, or we'd've starved long before the monsters got to us."

I didn't reply, simply nodding. I'm sure there was a dark look on my face. I had spent more than my fair share of time without food both on the streets and in various foster homes. I knew what he was talking about.

"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!". . . . . . . ..

He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff.

Instead of finding a path, I immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on my head.

"Sorry!" Grover yelped as I turned my death glare on him.

"Use those things again," I warned him. "And I'll take them and toss them into a fire. Got it?"

Grover gulped and nodded while Luke sniggered slightly, handing me a piece of ambrosia from his own pack. Then his face grew serious.

"When we stop for the night we need to talk about something the Kindly Ones said back there," he told me. I frowned, wondering what he meant. I had been a bit too busy fighting to pay attention to their shrieking. I was kind of impressed he'd been able to figure out what they'd been saying, their voices were so shrill.

After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colours of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized suddenly that I was starving. I hadn't eaten since dinner before the game. I'd been too distracted and nauseous to keep anything down after that. And the food we had in our bags was things like crackers and apples. Snacks, not meals. I needed a proper meal.

We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell.

It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and crap like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because apparently if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English.

To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM.

"What the hell does that say?" I asked.

"Don't ask me," Luke shrugged. He cocked his head to side and squinted, like that would somehow help make out the cursive.

Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium."

Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers.

"Hey ..." Grover warned.

"The lights are on inside," Luke pointed out. "Maybe it's open."

"Snack bar," I said wistfully.

"Snack bar," he agreed.

"Are you two crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird."

We ignored him.

The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.

"Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"

We stopped at the warehouse door.

"Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Luke dismissed him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

"You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminium cans," I reminded him.

"Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are ... looking at me."

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-coloured hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady.

Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?"

"They're ... um ..." I started to say.

"We got separated," Luke lied smoothly. "Our bus caught on fire a few miles back. We panicked and ran, but we got lost in the forest. We smelt your food and were hoping we'd found a Burger King or something."

"Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

We thanked her and went inside.

"Good cover," I whispered to Luke. He flashed me a smug grin.

"I know," he muttered back. "I'm a genius. Oscar worthy. But please, no autographs."

I scoffed and hit him on the arm. "You're such an ass." I informed him as we entered the room.

The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. But mostly, I was thinking about food.

Go ahead, call me an idiot for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because I was hungry, but I do impulsive stuff sometimes. Plus, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas or something—it made everything else go away. I didn't notice Grover's nervous whimpers, or the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, or the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us.

All I cared about was finding the dining area. It seemed absolutely vital I eat immediately, like if I didn't I would faint or something, never mind that I've gone days without eating before.

And sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front. Luke groaned at the sight while I sighed dreamily. Grover shifted anxiously behind us.

"Please, sit down," Aunty Em said.

"Thank you so much," I said eagerly, taking the nearest seat.

"Um," Grover said reluctantly, "We don't have any money, ma'am."

Before I could jab him in the ribs, or correct him, Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice children who have been through such a terrifying day."

"Thank you, ma'am," Luke said with a charming grin on his face. She waved him off.

"Quite alright Luke," she replied, before she disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

I was halfway through my burger before I remembered to breathe.

Luke slurped his shake.

Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat.

"What's that hissing noise?" he asked.

I listened, but didn't hear anything. Luke shook his head.

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

"I take vitamins. For my ears."

"That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."

Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn't see her face, but I was feeling satisfied after the burger, and a little sleepy, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess. Mom raised me to be polite after all and Chiron approved of politeness too. I didn't want to disappoint either of them.

"So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested instead of uncomfortable. I'd disliked garden gnomes ever since Foster Home Number Five. the Lees had a figurine obsession and I'd hated all sorts of statues ever since.

"Oh, yes," Aunty Em nodded. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."

"A lot of business on this road?"

"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get."

My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified.

"Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make these statues yourself?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

Despite that though, something about her story tickled the back of my mind. I frowned as I tried to catch the thought. but I was so full and content, I couldn't seem to concentrate properly.

Luke had stopped eating. He sat forward and asked, "Two sisters?"

"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Luke, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

I blinked, the feeling of missing something getting stronger.

"Ana?" Luke was shaking me to get my attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, our parents will be looking for us."

He sounded tense. I wasn't sure why. Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything. I had a foggy feeling and it was warring with the feeling of something being wrong.

"You are very similar to my beloved," Aunty Em told me with a wistful tone. She reached out as if to stroke my cheek, but Luke pulled me away abruptly.

"We really should go."

"Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "Our parents are waiting! Right!"

I didn't want to leave. I felt full and content. Aunty Em was so nice. I wanted to stay with her a while.

"Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" Luke asked warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."

Luke shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Ana—"

"Of course we'll stay," I agreed. I didn't even realize I'd spoken until the words were out of my mouth. The foggy feeling in my head increased as I continued, words exiting my lips without conscious thought. "It's just a photo, Luke. What's the harm?"

"Yes, Luke," the woman purred. "No harm."

I could tell Luke didn't like it, but he allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues.

Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girl in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side."

"Not much light for a photo," I remarked. The foggy feeling finally began to clear and I tensed, wondering suddenly how we had ended up in this place. Why were we posing for a photo, and who was the woman in front of us? I couldn't remember properly and I stiffened, trying to seem calm. _'Trap!'_ my mind screamed at me. _'SOS! Grab the boys and get the hell out of dodge! Now!'_

"Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Where's your camera?" Grover asked.

Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand."

"Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear." She still had no camera in her hands.

"Ana—" Luke said.

"You know ma'am, Luke and Grover are right," I suddenly said. "We really should be going. Our parents must be frantic by now after all."

"I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil..."

"Oh, I really think we should go," I began to stand up. "Something's seriously wrong."

"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.

"Look away from her!" Luke shouted. He whipped Annabeth's Yankees cap onto his head and vanished. His invisible hands pushed Grover and me both off the bench.

I was on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet.

I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Luke in another. But my head had hit a nearby statue and I was too dazed to move.

Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. It was terrifying and familiar, bringing to mind a distant memory of the first ever attempt on my life. A two-headed snake had crept into my crib in daycare and tried to bite me.

My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails.

I almost looked higher, but somewhere off to my left Luke screamed, "No! Don't!"

More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from ... from about where Aunty Em's head would be.

"Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling wildly.

The remnants of the foggy feeling finally disappeared from my mind as I put the clues-so obvious, how stupid was I to have missed it?-together. Aunty Em. Aunty "M." Medusa.

I looked to one side and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens— a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents. I shuddered in horror at the sight.

"I didn't tell the whole of my story, _dear_ Anaea," she said 'dear' with so much loathing I recoiled in fear. The only good thing about it was that my instincts kicked into gear and I started to crawl away from her, scrambling for my hairpin.

"You see, after I was cursed by Athena, I expected my lover to stand by me. To help me and my sisters, who had done nothing wrong. After all, I was in her temple on his request, and I was pregnant with his children. But he didn't help us," he voice grew dark as I hid behind the stat-no, the _body_ , of a young delivery man.

"Instead, he abandoned us to our fate, uncaring of our suffering. And we were attacked by heroes," she spat the word contemptuously. "Who sought to eliminate the monsters. My sisters were killed, as they did not share my power to turn people to stone and so could not defend themselves, and I was left alone with nothing but my statues until the accursed Perseus killed me.

It's all your father's fault! He and Athena! But I cannot get revenge on him, so I will settle for killing you!"

There was a wild battle cry and I glanced at another of the reflective sphere things. The sight shocked me. Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat, was racing for Medusa. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone.

"I'll get her!" He yelled. I let out a moan of horror, making to run and join the fight. Knowing Grover, I was sure he'd miss Medusa and knock _himself_ out.

Thwack!

At first I figured it was the sound of Grover hitting a tree. Then Medusa roared with rage.  
"You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"

"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.

I scrambled away and hid behind another person to peek carefully at the scene while Grover swooped in for another pass.

Ker-whack!

"Go Grover," I muttered.

"Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting.

Right next to me, Luke's voice said, "Ana!"

I jumped so high my feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that again or I'll castrate you!"

Luke took his Yankees cap off and became visible. 'You have to cut her head off."

"What? Why can't we just get the hell out of here?"

"Medusa is a menace. She's evil. We can't let her continue to live, turning innocent people into stone for her own amusement. I'll kill her myself, but you have the better weapon."

I bit my lip but nodded in acceptance. Luke was right. If we didn't stop Medusa, she'd just keep killing people. My heart clenched as I glanced at a body (I couldn't think of them as statues anymore. It seemed too disrespectful to her victims.) It was a young girl scout with her mother. The little girl was missing one of her front teeth.

"Okay," I agreed. "But how will I see her? None of us have shields."

Luke grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "Use this," he ordered me. "It's not as good as a polished shield, but it'll do. I have faith in you."

That warmed me more than I was willing to admit but the situation was too tense for me to think up a stinging remark to cover my appreciation.

"Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!"

"Roooaaarrr!"

"Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.

"Hurry," Luke urged me. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash.".

I twisted my pin carefully. The bronze blade of Riptide elongated in my hand. Then I followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair. I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her.

Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he was a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and threw him roughly away from her with unnatural strength. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!"

Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled a panicked, "Hey!"

I advanced on her, which wasn't easy, holding a sword and a glass ball. If she charged, I'd have a hard time defending myself. But she let me approach—twenty feet, ten feet.

"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Ana," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't. What would Mommy dearest think of such behaviour?"

I hesitated, fascinated by the face I saw reflected in the glass—the eyes that seemed to burn straight through the green tint, making my arms go weak.

From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, "Ana don't listen to her!"

Medusa cackled. "Too late."

She lunged at me with her talons. I slashed up with my sword, heard a sickening shlock! then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating. Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces.

"Oh gods," I groaned. "I need to burn these. Like, asap."

"Oh, yuck," Grover said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck."

Luke came up next to me, his eyes fixed on the sky. He was holding Medusa's black veil. "Don't move," he instructed me.

"Gotcha."

Very, very carefully, without looking down, he knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice.

"I knew you could do it," he grinned at me. "I trained you after all."

"Oh please," I scoffed. "That was plain natural talent. You trained me for a few days. You don't get the credit." I glanced at the covered head with a grimace. I felt queasy looking at it. "Why didn't the head evaporate?"

"Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," he explained. "Same as your minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you."

"Right," I breathed. Grover trotted up to us, a large red knot forming in the middle of his forehead. "Good work man," I told him appreciatively. "You were definitely more useful than that one over there." I jerked my thumb at Luke, who gave me a look of mocking offense.

"That hurts Sleeping Beauty, it really does," he pouted jokingly. "Here I was trying to give you some real-life experience, and you mock me." He shook his head sadly and I chuckled.

"That really was not fun, though," Grover announced. "Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun."

"You didn't enjoy crashing into solid stone?" I deadpanned. "Shocking. What do we do with the head?"

"Let me check the office," Luke decided. "See if I find some inspiration." I sat down tiredly, letting him go and search. He came out a few minutes later, with two more paper bags, a box, some tape, extra drachmas and, best of all, a slip of paper with an address on it in Ancient Greek. DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. The Underworld's billing address.

"Awesome," I breathed, taking it from him. "Luke I could seriously kiss you right now."

He brightened, suddenly in my personal space. "I'll take you up on that," he declared.

My eyes narrowed before I grabbed his collar and pulled him down to my level. Then I briefly skimmed my lips across his cheek. Grover choked in the background as I pulled back before Luke managed to do anything.

"Never let it be said I don't keep my promises," I whispered in his ear before stepping away and starting to wrap the head up more securely. Luke gaped at me, looking bewildered as I taped the box shut, head double-wrapped inside.

Then I scribbled on the top of it. It was a bad idea, but I was pissed and dirty and accused of being a thief, so I went along with it.

 _Lord Zeus,_

 _Mount Olympus,_

 _600th Floor,_

 _Empire State Building,_

 _New York, NY,_

 _With best wishes,_

 _Anaea Jackson._

"He's not going to like that," Grover warned. "He'll think you're impertinent."

I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop!

"I _am_ impertinent," I told them both, fixing my hands on my hips. "Come on," I ordered. "We need a new plan."


	12. Breakfast with a Poodle

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA. Oh, someone asked, Luke is just about to turn eighteen in September.**

 **Chapter Eleven**

**Breakfast With Gladiola the Poodle**

We were pretty miserable that night. None of us liked the thought of spending the night in a place where we had just killed the only occupant, so instead we spent the night camped out in the woods a few miles away.

The clearing we settled down in was obviously a frequent gathering point for the local kids to hang around. It was about a hundred yards from the main road, and rather marshy. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers. We spent a few minutes piling the rubbish together so we could dump it in the bin tomorrow on Luke's suggestion.

It was hardly the worst place that I'd spent the night, especially with the snug sleeping bags we'd taken from Camp, but we'd decided against a fire. The Furies and Medusa were enough for one day, thanks very much.

I kinda regretted it, cause frankly I was freezing, but again, I'd had enough of fighting for today. Well, for the rest of my existence really, but I didn't exactly have a choice in that matter. My father had seen to that very firmly.

I volunteered for first watch, and Luke gave only a token objection before he fell fast asleep. Grover, however, simply lay down, staring up at the sky with a brooding expression.

"Regretting ever meeting me?" I asked as lightly as I could. Really though, I wouldn't blame him for it if he was. Tyche (that _was_ the goddess of luck's name right? Or was her name Fortuna? Whatever.) definitely had some sort of grudge against me. On the other hand, I _did_ manage to survive all the shit I went through, so maybe she actually liked me. Something to dwell on at another time I guess.

Grover startled out of his thoughts, turning to stare at me and shake his head wildly.

"Don't be ridiculous Ana!" He objected. "You're my best friend, I love you. It just, it makes me so sad. And mad. I'm mad about it too."

I frowned at him. "What makes you sad?" I pressed. "Can I help?"

The side of his lip quirked up briefly before falling again, his frown returning. "This makes me sad," he gestured at the rubbish pile and up at the sky. "I mean just look at the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

I bit my lip. I knew already that Grover was an environmentalist, but recycling had never really ranked very high on my list of priorities, though I always did so. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry," I finally ventured. "I guess it must be really hard for a nature spirit to see this sort of stuff. We'll dump it tomorrow."

He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "Do you know what a searcher's license is?"

I shook my head. "No," I admitted freely, well-aware of how lacking my knowledge of the Greek world was given the circumstances. "I just know that your family has a tradition of getting them, and you'll only get yours if we succeed in the quest."

I cocked my head to the side for a moment as a breeze wafted through the clearing. It was fresh and sweet, and brought with it the smell of berries and clean air. Suddenly, I was nostalgic for something I didn't know.

"Tell me about it," I requested quietly. Grover gave me a studying look, like he was trying to decide if I was worthy of knowing about his dream or not. I must've been, because he nodded, straightening and beginning to explain.

"The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told me. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it.

They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."

"Wow," I said simply. "So you want to join them?"

Grover nodded. "My whole family has been searchers for generations," he explained. "My dad, and my Uncle Ferdinand. You saw his statue back at Aunty Em's."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Grover waved me off. "Dad and Uncle knew the risks. Every searcher does. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first one to come back alive."

My eyes widened in shock at that. "The first? What happened to them all?"

"Nobody knows," Grover shrugged gloomily. "But we have to keep trying. We have to believe that we'll be the one to find Pan and wake him up. It's the only thing that keeps us from giving in to despair when we look at what's happened to the world."

I stared at the orange haze of the sky and tried to understand how Grover could pursue a dream that seemed so hopeless. Then again, was I any better?

There was no way I'd ever be able to make Hades do what I wanted after all. I was a twelve-year-old girl with a sharp tongue. He was a god, and one of the most powerful gods at that. I was screwed and I knew it.

"How are we going to get into the Underworld?" I asked him. "I mean, what chance do we have against a god?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But we'll figure it out. We all have faith that you'll succeed in this Ana."

"Why?" I demanded, angry that I could feel that my voice was shaking and trying to hide it. "Why is everyone so godsdamn confident that I can do this? I've known about this stuff being real for a month!"

Grover chewed on his lip, genuinely considering my question, which I appreciated.

"You've just got this aura around you," he finally told me. I paused in tugging agitatedly on my braid to stare at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Just the way you talk, and move and just, just act. It makes everyone feel that you'd lay down your life for ours without thinking about it."

"Well I would of course," I replied uncertainly. Grover flashed me a sad smile.

"And that's why we trust you," he insisted. I didn't know what to say to that so I changed the subject to something I did want to ponder.

"I think something is off about this whole thing," I admitted to him. "On the bus, the Kindly Ones, did you hear them? They were asking where is _it._ Not her, _it_. We're missing something big, I know it. And we only have nine days!"

Grover bit his lip, worry flashing over his expression. "Well, we have to go to the Underworld anyway," he finally stated. "The prophecy said we'd go west and face the god who has turned. And it said you'd find the bolt and return it safely. Everything will work out Ana, you'll see."

I said nothing, but the Oracle's warning about being betrayed and war beginning played ominously in my mind as I watched Grover fiddle silently with his reed pipes.

More than anything, I wished for my mom to be there, holding me and stroking my hair.

"How about I take first watch?" He suggested. "You could use a rest." Before I could protest, he lifted the pipes to his mouth and began to play. Unlike his earlier attempts, the tune, something by Mozart I think, actually sent me to sleep where Grover's song was replaced by a memory of my mom singing me a lullaby and caressing my face and hair gently.

 _"Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,_  
 _Lavender's green_  
 _When you are king, dilly dilly,_  
 _I shall be queen_

 _Who told you so, dilly dilly,_  
 _Who told you so?_  
 _'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,_  
 _That told me so."_

Eventually, the dream changed to a nightmare. I was standing in a dark cavern before a gaping pit. Grey mist creatures churned all around me, whispering rags of smoke that I somehow knew were the spirits of the dead.

They tugged at my clothes, trying to pull me back, but I felt compelled to walk forward to the very edge of the chasm. Looking down made me dizzy. The pit yawned so wide and was so completely black, I knew it must be bottomless. Yet I had a feeling that something was trying to rise from the abyss, something huge and evil.

 _"The little heroine,"_ an amused voice echoed far down in the darkness. _"Too weak, too young, but perhaps you will do."_

The voice felt ancient—cold and heavy. It wrapped around me like sheets of lead and filled me with sheer terror. I wanted to run, but my feet were frozen in fear.

 _"They have misled you, girl,"_ it said. _"Barter with me. I will give you what you want."_

An image appeared in front of me of my mother. She looked just like she did the day she died. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a loose French braid, her face was bare of make-up with her loving smile that always made me feel safe and happy, no matter what, she was dressed in her shop uniform. And her arms were open, like she was waiting for me to run into her embrace like when I was a little girl being picked up from school.

I tried to cry out, but my voice wouldn't work.

Cold laughter echoed from the chasm. An invisible force pulled me forward. It would drag me into the pit unless I stood firm.

 _"Help me rise, girl."_ The voice became hungrier. _"Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods!"_

The spirits of the dead whispered around me, " _No! Wake!"_ The image of my mother began to fade. The thing in the pit tightened its unseen grip around me. I realized it wasn't interested in pulling me in. It was using me to pull _itself_ out.

 _"Good,"_ it murmured. " _Good."_

 _"Wake!"_ the dead whispered urgently. _"Wake!"_

Someone was shaking me. My eyes opened, and it was daylight. I shot up, gasping for breath.

"Ana?" Luke asked, just barely avoiding our heads knocking together. "What happened, are you okay?"

I shuddered. "Just a nightmare," I managed to croak. "It was just a nightmare."

Luke looked tense. "Ana, dreams are different for demigods," he informed me. "We often get visions of the past or present. Messages from the gods to help us with our quests. What'd you see?"

I opened my mouth to answer but was distracted when I spotted a pink poodle of all things sitting docilely in Grover's lap.

"What the heck is with the poodle?" I blurted out in bewilderment.

The poodle yapped at me suspiciously. Grover said, "No, she's not. She's good, I promise."

I blinked. "Are you talking to the dog?" He shot me a stern look.

"His name is Gladiola," he told me primly. "Say hello."

I decided to just go with it, reaching over to pat Gladiola's head as I greeted the dog. He softened, licking my hand affectionately.

"Gladiola's agreed to go back to his owners," Grover explained. "They're offering $200 for his safe return. We can use the money to buy tickets west."

"We don't need him to do that," I blinked in surprise. I pulled my bag closer to me and routed around in it for a minute. Eventually, I pulled out the wallet Silena had stowed inside it. Inside was a thick wad of cash.

When I finished counting it, I happily announced that we still had the full five hundred dollars they'd packed for me. Luke added his own money, some given to him by his siblings and some taken from Aunty Em's. When we combined it, we had nearly eight hundred. For safety, we each took part and decided to keep it hidden on ourselves. I shoved my bit in my bra making the boys flush.

Gladiola was obviously pleased that he wasn't going to be returned to his owners. Considering his pink-coloured fur, I really couldn't blame him for it. He guided us out of the forest as we munched on some snacks also packed by our friends in camp. Finally, we exited on top of a short hilltop. Down at the bottom, a chain-link fence, easily scalable for the three of us, was a train station.

"There's an Amtrak station half a mile that way," Grover announced, pointing to it. "According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."

I nodded. "And we'll be on it."


	13. I Go Arch Diving

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA.**

 **Anyone who wants to see some fanart of this fic should look up "Daughter of Poseidon" by Ap3x-Phantom on DeviantArt. It's very good. Thanks to them for it, I'm very flattered/delighted that everyone loves this so much. If anyone else wants to do anything based off this work, go ahead.**

 **Chapter Twelve**

**I Go Arch Diving**

We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain.

We weren't attacked once, but I didn't relax. I felt that we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity. I tried to read the books my friends had packed for me, and played some cards with the boys, but I just couldn't get into it. Our deadline and my prophecy loomed ominously over me and I always ended up getting up to pace the length of the train instead.

Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they (I assumed) hunted lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved. I looked around the passenger car, but nobody else had noticed. The adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines.

Another time, toward evening, I saw something huge moving through the woods. I could've sworn it was a lion, except that lions don't live wild in America, and this thing was the size of a Hummer. Its fur glinted gold in the evening light. Then it leaped through the trees and was gone. Frankly, I was relieved. I was in a bad enough mood without adding fighting the Nemean Lion to it.

We had only been able to buy tickets as far as Denver, and we couldn't get berths. Instead, we curled up on the seats under our coats. Still luxury compared to some of my 'beds', but I desperately missed my rickety bed in Montauk and even the soft mattress in Cabin Three.

At one point, Grover's shoe fell off and Luke and I had to hurry to replace it before any mortals noticed something was off.

"Ana," Luke said seriously as we sat back down again. "We need to talk about your dreams."

I tensed at that. I had no desire to talk about my nightmares of the pit despite having had a repeat of the dream only that night. It seemed as if by doing so I'd be turning them from bad dreams into the quest related visions that Luke had mentioned to me before.

"Ana," Luke pressed me when I didn't speak. "This is important. I can't help if I don't know the problem. And I know you had another dream last night. Tell me." He cupped my face to turn my gaze to him. I felt a strange sensation of warmth in the pit of my stomach at the amount of concern in his bright blue eyes.

 _'He has to have gotten those eyes from his father'_ I thought hazily. _'No way is that colour natural. Way too vibrant."_

"Fine," I huffed, breaking his stare and crossing my arms stubbornly. I valiantly resisted the urge to hit the smirk lingering on his lips off his face, instead explaining the dreams to him.

His smug look vanished as I spoke, his demeanour becoming serious again.

"That doesn't sound like Hades," he said, chewing over my explanation. "He usually appears on a black throne, and I've never heard of him laughing."

"He offered to bring my mother back to life in trade though," I argued, a pang in my heart. "Who else has the power to do something that if not the god of the dead?"

"Thanatos is god of the dead," Luke corrected me, tapping on his leg. "Hades is god of the Underworld and everything under the earth. But Thanatos has even less to gain from this than Hades does. I guess it could be him. But why tell you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?"

I shook my head, wishing I knew the answer. I thought about what Grover and I had discussed, that the Furies on the bus seemed to have been looking for something.

 _"Where is_ _ **it**_ _? Where?"_

Maybe Grover sensed my emotions. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head.

I silently reached over and readjusted his cap so it covered his horns.

"Ana," Luke began carefully. "You know that you can't barter with Hades. He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time—"

"If that was them being _un_ aggressive, I never want to actually piss them off," I cut him off sharply. My eyes fell to my lap as I started fiddling with the locket that hung around my neck.

It was an antique, belonging to first my great-great grandmother and then being passed down through the generations until I received it in a box of what few of my mom's personal items weren't put in storage by the state. It was an oval shape, made of a fake silver replacement, and when I opened it, I saw a picture of my mother at twenty. She was standing on the beach in front of our cabin, with me heavily bundled up against the cold sea air cradled in her arms.

"I know that I can't try to bring her back," my voice was ragged as I spoke, and my lip shook slightly. I scowled to keep the tears that were stinging my eyes from falling. "But I just." I fell silent. I didn't even know what I was going to say.

I started when Luke's arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a strong embrace. I stayed there for about a minute before pulling away and adjusting myself on the bench.

"You haven't said anything about what happened to your mother," Luke noted carefully. The question hung unvoiced in the air between us, and for a moment I contemplated pretending I didn't pick up his hint. Instead I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I kept on playing with my locket.

"My mom's name was Sally Jackson," I finally told him. I didn't look away from the necklace, determinedly studying the swirls engraved on the tarnished surface to avoid his gaze.

"She was the kindest person ever. I'm not even exaggerating. Her parents died when she was five, in a plane crash if you can believe it. When she was in college she ended up having to drop out of school to nurse her uncle until he died and then she had me when she was nineteen. She loved English literature, so I grew up on Jane Austen and Shakespeare.

Then when I was six, she married this asshole named Gabe."

I saw Luke's eyebrows raise at the pure hatred in my voice when I spat out the name. Then they narrowed suspiciously as I went on.

"I have no idea why. She used to tell me he kept me safe, but he knocked both of us around."

"Bastard," Luke hissed, clenching his fists. I gave a bitter smirk, nodding in agreement.

"No arguments from me, believe me. But, he also had a gambling problem." I had to stop for a second, gathering my courage to continue as I came to the most painful part of my tale.

"You don't have to tell me," Luke said when the silence began to stretch as I brooded. I shook my head quickly, a stubborn expression settling on my face. I was no coward after all. I could acknowledge that part of my character easily.

"No, I'll tell you. Like I said, gambling problem. But he was crap when it came to actually _winning_ any games. And he spent all his time spending Mom's money without getting any himself. So, unsurprisingly given our sole income was my mom's job at Sweet On America and our cabin being rented out every so often, we went into debt.

I don't know the details of what happened, but one of the people Gabe played with was a gang banger. He got pissed when Gabe couldn't give him his money back. Confronted him and shot him while Mom and I hid in my room.

My mom dragged me out of the window and down the fire-escape in the middle of a storm and out to the car. We drove for ages. We were going for Montauk I guess. But, like I said. Storm. Mom lost control of the car and when I woke up she was gone."

I sped up while telling the end of the story, until my words were tripping over each other to get out. When I finished, I didn't dare to glance at Luke, least he see my tears spilling down my cheeks.

"I met Thalia just outside of a dragon's lair in Charleston," Luke said quietly. I started in surprise at the non-sequiter.

"She was twelve, same as me. We had both ran away from bad home situations, not really abusive, just bad, and we met Annabeth a few months later. She was just turned seven.

We travelled together for a few months, before meeting up with Grover. And then we headed for Half-Blood Hill. We were being pursued by a legion of monsters sent by Hades to kill Thalia, and there was no way that we could have made it. We were about to be overwhelmed, only minutes from the border.

Thalia made us go on ahead. She sacrificed herself. Zeus turned her into a tree, so now her lifeforce guards Camp."

I glanced at him. "There some kind of rule?" I murmured. "All half-bloods must have as screwed up a childhood as possible. Ancient Law number whatever."

It wasn't remotely funny, but Luke cackled in laughter anyway. We both pretended not to see the other one wiping away tears.

Toward the end of our second day on the train, June 13, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis. Luke craned his neck to see the Gateway Arch, which to me looked oddly like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city.

"Annabeth loves that stuff," he informed me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"What stuff?"

"Architecture. It's her favourite thing in the world. She wants to build a monument that'll last a thousand years."

"Lofty goal," I observed. "Makes me feel embarrassed about my ambition of living into my twenties."

"Ah now Sleeping Beauty," Luke teased. "There's having a dream and there's being fanciful. All the trouble you get into will have you being buried at seventeen, tops."

"Make sure that there's thrift at my funeral," I snarked back at him, ignoring Grover's obvious horror at our morbid humour. Luke frowned slightly

"Thrift's a flower right?" He questioned me seriously. I rolled my eyes, patting his shoulder condescendingly.

"Yes, Luke," I answered dryly. "Thrift is a type of flower that grows near the sea."

"Ya know," Luke grinned, making me instantly suspicious. "Maybe Sleeping Beauty is the wrong nickname for you."

"What do you mean, Casanova?" I demanded, eyes narrowed.

"Well, you're the daughter of the ruler of the sea," he pointed out. "So maybe I should call you Ariel instead."

"Excuse me?" I half-shrieked. "Do I look like I have red hair and a tail?" Sleeping Beauty was just as idiotic as most Disney princesses a.k.a damsels in distress but at least she was _human_!

"Well," he drawled. I flushed furiously as he dragged his gaze up and down my slight frame.

Grover grabbed me and held me back as I went to punch Luke's too-handsome and smug face in.

"Let's visit the Arch!" He squeaked. That instantly redirected my ire. He cowered from my infuriated glare as I went to whack him over the head with my bag.

"Are you serious?! This is a mission to stop the apocalypse, not a fucking sightseeing tour! What the hell is the matter with you, you godsdamned, furry-"

Luke placed a hand over my mouth. I tried to bite him, but he was too quick, whipping it away and putting it back too fast for me to either hurt him or continue my rant.

"Calm yourself Ariel," he drawled. My glare deepened at the new name. "I agree with Grover. We have a while before our train leaves again, we might as well do some sightseeing to distract ourselves from the whole apocalypse thing."

So that was how we ended up standing in line at an elevator in the St. Louis' Arch while Grover passed me jelly beans.

I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line. "You smell anything?" I murmured to Grover.

He took his nose out of the jelly-bean bag long enough to sniff. "Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything."

But something felt wrong to me. I had a feeling we shouldn't be here.

"Guys," I said, shifting uneasily. "You know the gods' symbols of power?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, Hade—"

Grover cleared his throat. "We're in a public place... You mean, our friend downstairs?"

"Um, right," I said. "Our friend way downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?"

"You mean the Helm of Darkness," Luke nodded. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting."

"He was there?" I asked.

He nodded again. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus—the shortest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than Annabeth's invisibility hat, if what I've heard is true..."

"It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?"

"But then ... how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" I asked.

Luke and Grover exchanged grim looks.

"We don't," Luke admitted. I noticed his hand slip to his disguised sheath, clutching his sword pommel as he scanned the area.

"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," I said. "Got any blue jelly beans left?"

I'd almost mastered my jumpy nerves when I saw the tiny little elevator car we were going to ride to the top of the Arch, and I knew I was in trouble. As I mentioned before, I hate confined places.

We got shoehorned into the car with this big fat lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. I figured maybe the dog was a seeing-eye Chihuahua, because none of the guards said a word about it. Usually I liked animals, but something about that dog made me feel uncomfortable.

We started going up, inside the Arch. I'd never been in an elevator that went in a curve, and my stomach wasn't too happy about it.

"No parents?" the lady asked us. She definitely wasn't gonna be winning any beauty contests with her beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress that bulged so much, she looked like a blue-jean blimp.

"They're below," Luke lied smoothly. "Scared of heights."

"Oh, the poor darlings."

The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave." The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious.

"Sonny," I repeated. "Is that his name?"

"No," the lady told me. She smiled, as if that cleared everything up.

At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded me of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was okay, but if there's anything I like less than a confined space, it's a confined space six-hundred-feet in the air. I was ready to go pretty quick.

Luckily for me the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes. I actually thanked the gods, I was so relieved.

I steered Grover and Luke toward the exit, loaded them into the elevator, and I was about to get in myself when I realized there were already two other tourists inside. No room for me. Fan-fucking-tastic. The gods were seriously out to get me.

The park ranger said, "Next car, miss."

"We'll get out," Luke offered. "We'll wait with you."

But that was going to mess everybody up and take even more time, so I waved him off as I spoke, "Nah, it's okay. I'll see you guys at the bottom."  
Grover and Luke both looked nervous, but they let the elevator door slide shut. Their car disappeared down the ramp.

Now the only people left on the observation deck were me, a little boy with his parents, the park ranger, and the fat lady with her Chihuahua.

I smiled uneasily at the fat lady. She smiled back, her forked tongue flickering between her teeth.

Wait a minute.

Forked tongue?

Before I could decide if I'd really seen that, her Chihuahua jumped down and started yapping at me.

"Now, now, sonny," the lady said. "Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here."

"Doggie!" said the little boy. "Look, a doggie!" His parents pulled him back. The Chihuahua bared his teeth at me, foam dripping from his black lips.

"Well, son," the fat lady sighed. "If you insist."

Ice started forming in my stomach. "Uh, did you just call that Chihuahua your son?"

"Chimera, dear," the fat lady corrected. "Not a Chihuahua. It's an easy mistake to make."

She rolled up her denim sleeves, revealing that the skin of her arms was scaly and green. When she smiled, I saw that her teeth were fangs. The pupils of her eyes were sideways slits, like a reptile's.

The Chihuahua barked louder, and with each bark, it grew. First to the size of a Doberman, then to a lion. The bark became a roar. The little boy screamed. His parents pulled him back toward the exit, straight into the park ranger, who stood, paralyzed, gaping at the monster.

Terror rose up inside my throat, nearly choking me as I scrambled to yank my hairpin out and change it into its' sword shape.

The Chimera was now so tall its back rubbed against the roof. It had the head of a lion with a blood-caked mane, the body and hooves of a giant goat, and a serpent for a tail, a ten-foot-long diamondback growing right out of its shaggy behind. The rhinestone dog collar still hung around its neck, and the plate-sized dog tag was now easy to read: CHIMERA—RABID, FIRE-BREATHING, POISONOUS—IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL TARTARUS—EXT. 954.

I was ten feet away from the Chimera's bloody maw, and I knew that as soon as I moved, the creature would lunge.

The snake lady made a hissing noise that might've been laughter. "Be honoured, Ana Jackson. Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero with one of my brood. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!"

I stared at her. All I could think to say was: "Isn't that a kind of anteater?"

She howled, her reptilian face turning brown and green with rage. "I hate it when people say that! I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Ana Jackson, my son shall destroy you!"

The Chimera charged, its lion teeth gnashing. I managed to leap aside and dodge the bite.

I ended up next to the family and the park ranger, who were all screaming now, trying to pry open the emergency exit doors.

I couldn't let them get hurt. I uncapped my sword, ran to the other side of the deck, and yelled, "Hey, Chihuahua!" The Chimera turned faster than I would've thought possible.

Before I could swing my sword, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world's largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at me.

I dove through the explosion. The carpet burst into flames; the heat was so intense, it nearly seared off my eyebrows. For once I was grateful for being forced to do the lava climbing wall at camp. At least I was mostly desensitized to being viciously burned now.

Where I had been standing a moment before was a ragged hole in the side of the Arch, with melted metal steaming around the edges.

 _'Great'_ I thought. _'We just blowtorched a national monument.'_ I was pretty sure that was a felony. Did Missouri have the death penalty? Riptide was now a shining bronze blade in my hands, and as the Chimera turned, I slashed at its' neck.

That was my fatal mistake. The blade sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. I tried to regain my balance, but I was so worried about defending myself against the fiery lion's mouth, I completely forgot about the serpent tail until it whipped around and sank its fangs into my calf.

The pain was agonizing. My whole leg was on fire. I tried to jab Riptide into the Chimera's mouth, but the serpent tail wrapped around my ankles and pulled me off balance, and my blade flew out of my hand, spinning out of the hole in the Arch and down toward the Mississippi River.

I managed to get to my feet, but I knew I had lost. I was weaponless. I could feel deadly poison racing up to my chest. I remembered Chiron saying that Anaklusmos would always return to me, but it hadn't come back yet. Maybe it had fallen too far away. Maybe it only returned when it was in pin form. I didn't know, and I wasn't going to live long enough to figure it out.

I backed into the hole in the wall. The Chimera advanced, growling, smoke curling from its lips. The snake lady, Echidna, cackled. "They don't make heroes like they used to, eh, son?"

The monster growled. It seemed in no hurry to finish me off now that I was beaten. I summoned up enough strength to glare at it contemptuously like it was some sort of insect.

Then a noise made me glance at the park ranger and the family. The little boy was hiding behind his father's legs. I had to protect these people. I couldn't just ... die. I tried to think, but my whole body was on fire. My head felt dizzy. I had no sword. I was facing a massive, fire-breathing monster and its mother. And I was scared.

There was no place else to go, so I stepped to the edge of the hole. Far, far below, the river glittered.

If I died, would the monsters go away? Would they leave the humans alone?

"If you are truly the daughter of Poseidon," Echidna hissed, "you would not fear water. Jump, Ana Jackson. Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline."

I was genuinely torn. I knew that hitting water from very high up was the same as hitting concrete, but still. Chiron had said that children of gods had control over their immortal parents' domains. And I was dying anyway.

The Chimera's mouth glowed red, heating up for another blast.

"You have no faith," Echidna told me. "You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little coward. Better you die now. The gods are faithless. The poison is in your heart."

She was right: I was dying. I could feel my breath slowing down. Nobody could save me, not even the gods.

I backed up and looked down at the water. I remembered the warm glow of my mother's smile when I was younger. She had taught me never to give up until you were outright dead. I couldn't disrespect her memory by not trying to do something to survive. My eyes darted frantically around the area, searching for a solution to my situation.

My eyes again went to water swirling beneath us. I remembered the swirling green trident that had appeared above my head the night of that fateful capture the flag, when Poseidon had claimed me as his daughter.

But this wasn't the sea. This was the Mississippi, dead centre of the USA. There was no Sea God here.

"Die, faithless one," Echidna rasped, and the Chimera sent a column of flame toward my face.

"Father, help me," I prayed before I turned and jumped. My clothes on fire, poison coursing through my veins, I plummeted toward the river.


	14. I Become A Fugitive

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA. Sorry this new chapter took so long, I spent like three weeks trying to get my laptop fixed, only to end up having to buy a newone anyway. Sucks. Anyways, hope you enjoy, R &R!**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

**I Become I A Wanted Fugitive. Good Times Huh?**

If this were a novel, I'd've come to terms with my impending death as I fell. Accepted it you know? As it was, I was too busy shrieking to have any meaningful revelations about life and the universe. The river raced toward me at the speed of a truck. Wind ripped the breath from my lungs. Steeples and skyscrapers and bridges tumbled in and out of my vision.

And then: Boooom! There was a whiteout of bubbles. I sank through the murk, sure that I was about to end up embedded in a hundred feet of mud and lost forever.

But my impact with the water hadn't hurt. I was falling slowly now, bubbles trickling up through my fingers. I settled on the river bottom soundlessly. A catfish the size of my former stepfather lurched away into the gloom. Clouds of silt and disgusting garbage—beer bottles, old shoes, plastic bags—swirled up all around me.

Then it hit me. I was at the bottom of a river, and I was breathing. Weird, but I was alive, so it was a good weird. Alive is always good. Usually anyway.

On impulse I grabbed an abandoned lighter floating nearby and flicked it on. When I held the spark to a soggy paper bag, it lit up. Right there at the bottom of the Mississippi. I pulled the lighter back, stowing it in my pocket, and the fire went out as soon my skin was away from it.

So, that was a 'yes' in regards to the question of whether or not I'd received any powers from my father or not. At least I wasn't causing earthquakes when I was pissed off. That was something anyway.

I stood shakily, thigh deep in mud. I could hear a voice, similar to my mother's, prodding me. 'Ana, what do you say?'

"Uhm, thanks Father," I mumbled uncomfortably. "I appreciate it." Underwater, I sounded like I did on recordings, like a much older kid.

I bit my lip as I thought about the poor people up in the Arch. What had happened to them? Katie had said once that monsters didn't really bother with regular mortals, but even if Echidna and her psychotic son/pet had left them alone, the Arch had still exploded. They could be seriously hurt, or dead. They were definitely traumatized for life if they _had_ survived.

I almost wanted to stay down here for the rest of my life. Away from prophecies, and genetics demanding I be a hero, and holding the fate of the world in my hands.

I'd always thought that those stories with teenagers as the protagonists were crap. No teen, heck no adult, could handle the pressure of being responsible for the fate of the world in their hands without going insane.

Fump-fump-fump. A riverboat's paddlewheel churned above me, swirling the silt around.

There, not five feet in front of me, was my sword, its gleaming bronze hilt sticking up in the mud.

I heard that woman's voice again: 'Ana, take the sword. Your father believes in you.' This time, I knew the voice wasn't in my head. I wasn't imagining it. Her words seemed to come from everywhere, rippling through the water like dolphin sonar.

"Where are you?" I called aloud. Then, through the gloom, I saw her—a woman the colour of the water, a ghost in the current, floating just above the sword. She had long billowing hair, and her eyes, barely visible, were green like mine.

A lump formed in my throat. I said, "Mom?" I shook my head before I even finished speaking. "No, you can't be. You just look like her. Who are you?"

"Only a messenger," she told me. "You must go to the beach at Santa Monica."

"Why?"

"It is your father's will. Please Ana, I cannot stay long, this river is too foul for me. Go to Santa Monica." She reached out, and I felt the current brush my face like a caress.

"I cannot stay, brave one," the woman said. "You must go to Santa Monica! And, Ana, do not trust the gifts..." Her voice faded.

"Gifts?" I asked. "What gifts? Wait!" She made one more attempt to speak, but the sound was gone. Her image melted away. I felt like drowning myself. The only problem: I was immune to drowning.

She had called me brave. And she had said that my father believed in me. I didn't know what to think about that part, so I pushed the thought away.

I waded over to my sword and pulled it out. The Chimera might still be up there with its snaky, fat mother, waiting to finish me off. At the very least, the mortal police would be arriving, trying to figure out who had blown a hole in the Arch. If they found me, they'd have some questions.

I returned my sword to its' hairpin state and pinned back a loose lock of hair with it. "Thank you, Father," I said again to the dark water. Then I kicked up through the muck and swam for the surface.

I came ashore next to a floating McDonald's.

A block away, every emergency vehicle in St. Louis was surrounding the Arch. Police helicopters circled overhead. The crowd of onlookers reminded me of Times Square on New Year's Eve.

A little girl said, "Mama! That girl walked out of the river."

"That's nice, dear," her mother said, craning her neck to watch the ambulances.

"But she's dry!"

"That's nice, dear." So much for mortals not seeing through the Mist. At least the mother was too distracted to pay attention to a dry teenage girl walking out of the river.

A news lady was talking for the camera: "Probably not a terrorist attack, we're told, but it's still very early in the investigation. The damage, as you can see, is very serious. We're trying to get to some of the survivors, to question them about eyewitness reports of someone falling from the Arch."

Survivors. I nearly cried in relief. Maybe the park ranger and that family made it out safely. I hoped Luke and Grover were okay.

I began to try and push through the crowd to see what was going on inside the police line. I stiffened as I heard the news report being broadcasted.

"... an adolescent girl," another reporter was saying. "Channel Five has learned that surveillance cameras show an adolescent girl going wild on the observation deck, somehow setting off this freak explosion. Hard to believe, John, but that's what we're hearing. Again, no confirmed fatalities ..."

I backed away, trying to keep my head down. I had to go a long way around the police perimeter. Uniformed officers and news reporters were everywhere. And even worse, they were looking for me. The Fates had it out for me, I just knew it.

I'd almost lost hope of ever finding Luke and Grover when a familiar voice bleated, "Aaanaa!"

I turned and got tackled by Grover's bear hug—or goat hug. He said, "We thought you'd gone to Hades the hard way!"

"I'm fairly sure that'd be the easy way actually," I corrected him cynically as Luke yanked me into his own arms and started to check me over worriedly.

"Are you okay? What the fuck happened up there Ariel? If you hate sightseeing that much, all you had to do was say so! There was no need to try and kill yourself!"

"Wasn't trying to kill myself," I snorted. "I was tryin' to kill the psycho anteater and her fire-breathing chihuahua-son thing."

"What?" They exclaimed in unison, drawing a few looks. Thankfully, most people were more interested in the remains of the Arch than in a group of stressed-out teens.

I made a face at him and gestured away from the crowd with my chin. "Let's move. I'll tell you on the way to the station."

I explained what happened as we walked, keeping my head down and trying to seem inconspicuous. No doubt I looked exactly the opposite.

"Well we have to get you to Santa Monica," Grover declared worriedly, in between chewing on a handkerchief. "You can't ignore a summons from your dad, demigods have been killed for less!"

I huffed in frustration. "I seriously hate deadlines now. What I would give for a Spanish exam right now."

Luke chuckled but I could see the anxiety on his face.

Before he could respond, we passed another reporter doing a news break, and I almost froze in my tracks when he said, "Ana Jackson. That's right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the girl who may have caused this explosion fits the description of a young foster child who went missing from a school trip with her boarding school in New York last May. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Ana Jackson."

We ducked around the news van and slipped into an alley.

"First things first," I told the boys. "We've got to get out of town!"

Somehow, we made it back to the Amtrak station without getting spotted. We got on board the train just before it pulled out for Denver. The train trundled west as darkness fell, police lights still pulsing against the St. Louis skyline behind us.


	15. Thrill Ride o' Love

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA You'll enjoy this. Long canon chapter=long fanfic chapter. To be specific, it's circa 4,512 words counting disclaimer and title. R &R!**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

**I Take a Trip on the Thrill Ride o' Love (not the way it sounds)**

The next afternoon, June 14, seven days before the solstice, our train rolled into Denver. We hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas. We hadn't taken a shower since Half-Blood Hill, and I was sure that was obvious.

"Let's try to contact Chiron," Luke said. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit."

"How?" I asked, crinkling my eyebrow. "The rainbow thing Katie told me about?"

Luke flashed me a grin and I felt fire pool in the centre of my belly. Damn him for being so good looking. Damn godly genetics in general actually. Nothing but trouble for those who carried them.

"Yeah," Luke confirmed, regaining my wandering attention. "The rainbow thing. Also known as Iris Messaging, or IMing. We make a rainbow, toss in some drachmae, say who we want to speak to, and voilá! Instant connection. Better than Skype. Faster too."

"Okay," I crossed my arms. "Slight problem with this plan. We have no way to make a rainbow."

I sure as hell didn't want to try experimenting with my budding powers. I don't care how well it always worked out on TV, me messing with my as yet unknown abilities was asking for another national monument to be destroyed. Violently.

"We'll find someplace," Luke assured me. He grabbed my hand and started to tug me along. I huffed and fell into step, twisting my wrist to be more comfortable.

We wandered through downtown for about half an hour, though I wasn't sure what Luke was looking for. The air was dry and hot, which felt weird after the humidity of St. Louis. Everywhere we turned, the Rocky Mountains seemed to be staring at me, like a tidal wave about to crash into the city. In other words, no rainbows conveniently waiting to be used as a message service by a couple of ragged part-human teenagers.

Finally we found an empty do-it-yourself car wash. We veered toward the stall farthest from the street, keeping our eyes open for patrol cars. We were three adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car; any cop worth his doughnuts would figure we were up to no good.

Grover took out the spray gun. "It's seventy-five cents," he grumbled. "I've only got two quarters left. Luke?"

"Don't look at me," he said. "The dining car wiped me out. Ariel, what about you?"

I sighed while I pulled out my wallet and rooted through it. Finally, I pulled out the smallest bill I had and suggested we change it for coins instead.

"Good idea," Luke declared brightly. He jumped over to my side, pecked my cheek, and yanked the dollar from my fingers before dashing off. No doubt he knew that if he dared to be within arms' reach by the time I snapped out of my shocked state I would castrate him. Slowly.

Several minutes later he returned, coins in hand and passed Grover a quarter.

"Excellent," Grover said. "We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping."

He fed in the quarters and set the knob to FINE MIST.

"You summon the goddess with a spray gun?"

Grover pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."

"Touché," I shrugged.

Sure enough, late afternoon light filtered through the vapor and broke into colours.

Luke held his palm out to me, an angelic smile on his face. "Drachma, please."

I handed it over with a threatening glare. At the rapid paling of his face, my lips twitched into a smug smirk.

Swallowing, he turned and raised the coin over his head. "O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, please accept our offering." He threw the drachma into the rainbow and it disappeared in a golden shimmer.

"Half-Blood Hill," Luke requested.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then I was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. We seemed to be on the porch of the Big House. Standing with her back to us at the railing was a girl with blonde princess curls in shorts and an orange tank top. She was holding a bronze knife and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow.

"Annabeth!" Luke called, a smile breaking out over his face. She spun, grey eyes widening in surprise before she smiled back at him.

"Luke! Thank the gods that you're okay!" She exclaimed, moving closer to the image. "And is that Grover?" She blatantly ignored me and my presence.

"Uhm, I'm just gonna pop into the shop," I muttered uncomfortably. "Pick up some food." I turned and fled before anyone could say anything to make me stay.

A few minutes later I exited the small gas station with a plastic bag of various snack foods shoved into my backpack and immediately spotted Luke and Grover waiting for me. My heart dropped at the grim looks on their faces. I momentarily panicked, convinced that the deadline had been brought closer or something, but I kept it hidden.

"What is it?"

"Someone leaked the news about the theft," Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair. I snapped my eyes shut, groaning in dismay.

"How bad is it?" I asked, not certain I actually wanted to hear the answer. The boys grimaced.

"Not too bad for you," Luke claimed. "Really," he added at my sceptical look. "All the cabins except Dionysus and uh, and Athena are on you and your father's side. But, there's been a couple of fights. That's where Chiron was. Breaking up a fight between Will and Pollux. You know, Dionysus' son."

My eyes fell to the ground and I bit my lip miserably. Just as I had feared, my friends were suffering because of this mess. I wasn't about to claim it was all my fault when I knew damn well who was to blame for Camp being on the edge of a civil war, but I knew that the reason Will was in a fight was probably because he was defending me.

"Ana," Luke said softly, reaching out to me. I shook my head, pulling away.

"Let's go get some dinner before our next train," I said exhaustedly, walking past. "I need something to eat."

A few minutes later, we were sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner. All around us, families were eating burgers and drinking malts and sodas.

Finally the waitress came over. She raised her eyebrow sceptically. "Well?"

I said, "We, um, want to order dinner."

"You kids have money to pay for it?"

I reached for my wallet to show our money to the waitress when a rumble shook the whole building; a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant had pulled up to the curb.

All conversation in the diner stopped. The motorcycle's headlight glared red. Its gas tank had flames painted on it, and a shotgun holster riveted to either side, complete with shotguns. The seat was leather—but leather that looked like ... well, Caucasian human skin. It was creepy.

The guy on the bike would've made pro wrestlers run for Mama. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and black jeans and a black leather duster, with a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He wore red wraparound shades, and he had the cruellest, most brutal face I'd ever seen— handsome, I guess, but wicked and not my type at all—with an oily black crew cut and cheeks that were scarred from many, many fights. The weird thing was, I felt like I'd seen his face somewhere before.

As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again. Everybody went back to their conversations. The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She asked us again, "You kids have money to pay for it?"

The biker said, "It's on me." He slid into our booth, which was way too small for him, and crowded me against the window. Luke glared at him like he was the living example of everyone and everything bad in the world.

He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, "Are you still here?"

He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she'd been spun around, then marched back toward the kitchen.

The biker looked at me. I couldn't see his eyes behind the red shades, but bad feelings started boiling in my stomach. Anger, resentment, bitterness. I wanted to hit a wall. I wanted to pick a fight with somebody. Who did this guy think he was?

He gave me a wicked grin. "So you're old Seaweed's kid, huh?"

I should've been surprised, or scared, but instead I felt like I was looking at my stepdad. I wanted to rip this guy's head off. I wanted to snap at him but years of bad foster homes had given me some sense. This guy was a god, I'd stake every cent I owned on it, and getting him angry at me would be pure stupidity. Luke didn't share my thought process.

"What's it to you?" He snapped. My foot lashed out at his calf, but he paid no attention, glaring resentfully at the most-likely god.

The man gave a cool smile and I stiffened in discomfort. "I don't mind a little attitude, but you better remember who's the boss kid." He turned to me, smirking. "You know who I am, little cousin?"

It struck me why this guy looked familiar. He had the same vicious sneer as some of the kids at Camp Half-Blood, the ones from cabin five.

"You're Ares," I murmured. "The god of war."

Ares grinned and took off his shades. Where his eyes should've been, there was only fire, empty sockets glowing with miniature nuclear explosions. "That's right, punkette. I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you."

The waitress came back with heaping trays of food—cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes.

Ares handed her a few gold drachmas.

She looked nervously at the coins. "But, these aren't..."

Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. "Problem, sweetheart?"

The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold.

"You can't just threaten people with a knife," Luke snapped at him. My heart was in my throat, every story I'd ever heard about gods smiting people for disrespect or even just because they wanted to running through my as I waited anxiously for Ares' reply.

Ares laughed. "Are you kidding? I love this country. Best place since Sparta. Don't you carry a weapon, punk? You should. Dangerous world out there. Which brings me to my proposition punkette. I need you to do me a favour."

"What favour could I do for a god?"

"Something a god doesn't have time to do himself. It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little ... date with my girlfriend. We were interrupted. I left my shield behind. I want you to fetch it for me."

"Why don't you go back and get it yourself?" Luke scowled before I could answer.

The fire in Ares' eye sockets glowed a little hotter.

"Why don't I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don't feel like it. A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Ana Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?" He leaned forward. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you."

I wanted to punch this guy, but somehow, I knew he was waiting for that. Ares's power was causing my anger. He'd love it if I attacked. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"We're can't," I said. "We've already got a quest. We have a _deadline_."

Ares' fiery eyes made me see things I didn't want to see—blood and smoke and corpses on the battlefield. "I know all about your quest, punk. When that item was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally.

If I couldn't sniff out a weapon that powerful ..." He licked his lips, as if the very thought of the master bolt made him hungry. "Well ... if I couldn't find it, you got no hope. Nevertheless, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your dad and I go way back. After all, I'm the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath."

"You told him Hades stole the bolt?" I was furious. This guy was the reason I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. He'd caused a dozen different problems in my recent life with his actions.

"Sure. Framing somebody to start a war. Oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest."

"Thanks," Luke grumbled.

"Hey, I'm a generous guy. Just do my little job, and I'll help you on your way. I'll arrange a ride west for you and your friends."

"We're doing fine on our own," Luke stubbornly insisted while I continued to try and figure out how to get out of this little side-quest with our lives intact. Luke's attitude wasn't helping in the slightest.

"Yeah, right. No money. No wheels. No clue what you're up against. Help me out, and maybe I'll help you."

"Maybe," Luke scoffed making me kick him again.

"Fine," I sighed, realizing that we had no choice. "Where is it?"

He grinned. "The water park is a mile west on Delancy. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride."

"What interrupted your date?" Luke asked. "Something scare you off?"

Ares bared his teeth, but I'd seen his threatening look before on Clarisse. There was something false about it, almost like he was nervous.

"You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me."

After that I must have fainted, or fallen into a trance, because when I opened my eyes again, Ares was gone. I might've thought the conversation had been a dream, but Luke and Grover's expressions told me otherwise.

"Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Ana. This is not good."

I stared out the window. The motorcycle had disappeared. "When has anything on this damn quest been _good_?" I scoffed at them. I looked down at my cheeseburger, which suddenly didn't seem so appetizing. "What could make a god run away?"

"I guess we have to find out," Luke scowled at his feet. "Let's go."

The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time we found the water park. Judging from the sign, it once had been called WATERLAND, but now some of the letters were smashed out, so it read WAT R A D.

The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. Inside, huge dry waterslides and tubes and pipes curled everywhere, leading to empty pools. Old tickets and advertisements fluttered around the asphalt. With night coming on, the place looked sad and creepy.

"Maybe it was his girlfriend that he was running from," I suggested, eyeing the broken-down park.

The boys gave me bemused looks and I huffed in irritation.

"I'd castrate any guy that brought me someplace like here on a date," I explained, making the guys pale. "Any self-respecting female would. And his girlfriend is Aphrodite right?" Grover nodded, eyes wide at my previous sentence.

"Noted," Luke croaked, trying to discreetly cover his crotch.

"So how do we get in?"

"Maia!" Luke's shoes sprouted wings.

He flew over the fence, did an unintended somersault in mid-air, then stumbled to a landing on the opposite side. He dusted off his jeans, as if he'd planned the whole thing. "You guys coming?"

Grover and I had to climb the old-fashioned way, holding down the barbed wire for each other as we crawled over the top. The elbow I shoved into Luke's gut as I passed wiped the smirk off his face as he struggled for breath before running after us to catch up.

The shadows grew long as we walked through the park, checking out the attractions. There was Ankle-Biter Island, Head Over Wedgie, and Dude, Where's My Swimsuit?

No monsters came to get us. Nothing made the slightest noise. Beyond disturbing for me by now.

We found a souvenir shop that had been left open. Merchandise still lined the shelves: snow globes, pencils, postcards, and racks of—

"Clothes," I said reverently. "Fresh clothes." Unlike all the clothes that I'd had in my bag, these were actually _clean_.

"Yeah," Luke agreed. "But you can't just—"

"Watch me," I snapped. "I'm not doing anything else 'til I've had a shower. Anyone who tries to stop gets it! Understood?" I nodded in satisfaction at their obedient nods before turning to the clothes.

I literally snatched an entire row of stuff of the racks like in some movie and disappeared into the attached locker/shower room. A few minutes later I came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes.

"What the heck." Grover shrugged. Soon, all three of us were decked out like walking advertisements for the defunct theme park.

We continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. I got the feeling that the whole park was holding its breath.

"So," I said, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "Isn't Hephaestus always setting up traps to humiliate Ares and Aphrodite? Silena said that to me."

"Yeeesss," Luke dragged out the word. He grimaced, evidently coming to the same conclusion as I had. "That must be what happened tonight."

"So we have to tackle a trap meant for immortals?"

"Pretty much," Luke sighed.

"There," I pointed out.

In front of us was an empty pool that would've been awesome for skateboarding. It was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl.

Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from us, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS' TUNNEL OF LOVE!

Grover crept toward the edge. "Guys, look."

Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it. In the left seat, glinting in the fading light, was Ares' shield, a polished circle of bronze.

"This is too easy," I said. "Where's the trap?"

Luke ran his fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue.

"There's a Greek letter carved here," he said. "Eta. I wonder ..."

"Grover," I said, "you smell any monsters?"

He sniffed the wind. "Nothing."

"Nothing—like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn't-smell-Echidna nothing, or really nothing?"

Grover looked hurt. "I told you, that was underground."

"Okay, I'm sorry." I took a deep breath. "I'm going down there."

"I'll go with you." Grover didn't sound too enthusiastic, but I got the feeling he was trying to make up for what had happened in St. Louis.

"No," Luke told him. "I want you to stay up top. We'll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong. I'll go with her."

"What?" I objected, cheeks reddening. "Me, go with you to the ... the 'Thrill Ride of Love'? How embarrassing is that? What if somebody saw me?"

"They'll be like, who's that gorgeous girl with the equally handsome guy?"

I gave him an irritated look but grudgingly began climbing down until we reached the boat. The shield was propped on one seat, and next to it was a lady's silk scarf.

Glancing around for any signs of a trap, I shook my head disapprovingly. Aphrodite must be really in love with Ares or something. I know I sure as hell wouldn't put up with coming to places like this for a date.

"Just get the shield, Casanova, and let's get out of here," I ordered tensely. "This place freaks me out."

"Shit!"

"What?" I demanded worriedly.

"Trip wire!" Luke yelled over the sudden commotion.

Noise erupted all around us, of a million gears grinding, as if the whole pool were turning into one giant machine.

Grover yelled, "Guys!"

Up on the rim, the Cupid statues were drawing their bows into firing position. Before I could suggest taking cover, they shot, but not at us. They fired at each other, across the rim of the pool. Silky cables trailed from the arrows, arcing over the pool and anchoring where they landed to form a huge golden asterisk. Then smaller metallic threads started weaving together magically between the main strands, making a net.

"RUN!" I shrieked as I grabbed the shield. But unfortunately, going up the slope of the pool was not as easy as going down.

"Come on!" Grover shouted.

He was trying to hold open a section of the net for us, but wherever he touched it, the golden threads started to wrap around his hands.

The Cupids' heads popped open. Out came video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding us with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute ... Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight ..."

We'd almost made it to the rim when the row of mirrors opened like hatches and thousands of tiny metallic ...snakes slithered out.

Instantly, my ophiophobia kicked in and I screamed in terror, covering my head with my hands and arms. "Get rid of them! Get rid of them!"

"Ana! Ana come one!" Luke tried to snap me out of my terror, but I was too panicked. With Medusa, I hadn't actually seen the snakes on her head, and they couldn't reach me because they were stuck to her head. These were different.

The worst thing was that they opened their mouths and shot something I thought was venom at me. I was too hysterical to register that it felt like wire, or that Luke was tugging at me in an attempt to break them, whilst yelling for Grover to find the control panel and turn it off.

"Two, one, zero!"

Water exploded out of the pipes. It roared into the pool, sweeping away the snakes. I snapped out of my panic as Luke pulled me into the seat next to me and fastened her seat belt just as the tidal wave slammed into our boat, over the top, whisking the snakes away and dousing us completely, but not capsizing us. The boat turned, lifted in the flood, and spun in circles around the whirlpool.

The water was full of short-circuiting snakes, some of them smashing against the pool's concrete wall with such force they burst.

"Ana!" Luke yelled again, clutching the side.

"Y-yeah!" I called back shakily.

"Thank the gods! Can you control the boat?"

I concentrated, still shaky. "Only enough to keep us from capsizing! The current's too strong for me!"

Spotlights glared down at us. The Cupid-cams were rolling, live to Olympus.

But I could only concentrate on controlling the boat. I willed it to ride the current, to keep away from the wall. At least, it didn't break into a million pieces.

We spun around one last time, the water level now almost high enough to shred us against the metal net. Then the boat's nose turned toward the tunnel and we rocketed through into the darkness.

Luke and I held tight, both of us screaming as the boat shot curls and hugged corners and took forty-five-degree plunges past pictures of Romeo and Juliet and a bunch of other cheesy Valentine's Day stuff.

Then we were out of the tunnel, the night air whistling through our hair as the boat barrelled straight toward the exit.

If the ride had been in working order, we would've sailed off a ramp between the golden Gates of Love and splashed down safely in the exit pool. But there was a problem. The Gates of Love were chained. Two boats that had been washed out of the tunnel before us were now piled against the barricade—one submerged, the other cracked in half.

"For the love of Olympus!" I snarled, now seriously pissed off. "Can't we catch a godsdamn break for once?"

Luke leant over, unfastening our belts.

"Are you crazy?" I hissed at him, gripping the sides firmly.

"Trust me," he urged as he held out a hand. I sighed and grabbed it.

"Maia!" Luke called, pulling me close. We shot straight up, me yelping in surprise and alarm.

When we looked down, our boat had also smashed against the gates with the other two wrecks. I shuddered, gripping Luke tighter.

"Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't put me down on solid ground asap, I'm gonna hurt you."

He laughed and guided us carefully to the ground. I could've kissed the gravel, I was so relieved.

As soon as our feet touched the ground, Grover rushed over to us and pulled me into a tight hug.

"What's with you and trouble Ana?" He demanded.

"The Fates hate me," I snorted as I pulled away and strapped the shield to my arm. I turned to the still rolling Cupid cameras and gave a mock curtsey. "Show's over, lords and ladies! Hope you enjoyed it!"

The statues turned away and I looked back at the boys.

"Let's go," I instructed. "The sooner we're outta here, the better."


	16. (In)Humane Transport

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

**(In)Humane Zoo Transports**

The war god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," he drawled. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," I accused, glaring venomously at him.

Ares gave me a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

Luke shoved his shield at him. "You're a jerk."

I grabbed his arm in worry at his words, and Grover gulped but Ares just smirked. He grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. Then he slung it across his back.

"See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which I could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

My head snapped back around to stare incredulously at him. "You're kidding."

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punkette. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to me. Inside were fresh clothes for all of us, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuffed Oreos.

"We don't want your lousy—" Luke began hotly.

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving us both his best red-alert warning look. I wasn't really against the arrogant deity getting told exactly what this little thing called reality was, but Grover wasn't as suicidal as Luke and I apparently were. Maybe it was a demigod thing. We knew we'd probably die before turning twenty so we amputated our survival instincts.

"Thanks a lot."

I gritted my teeth. It was probably a deadly insult to refuse something from a god, but I didn't want anything that Ares had touched. Reluctantly, I slung the backpack over my shoulder.

I knew my anger was being caused by the war god's presence, but I was still itching to punch him in the nose. He reminded me of every bully I'd ever faced: Nancy Bobofit, Gabe, cruel foster parents—every jerk who'd called me stupid in school or laughed at me when I'd gotten expelled.

I looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who'd served us dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt us. She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of us.

Great, I thought. We'll make the papers tomorrow. With the way my luck had been lately, I was positive that the Mist would make us as the aggressors instead of Ares. I could just see the headline: TEENAGE HOOLIGANS ATTACK AND BEAT UP DEFENSELESS BIKER.

"Thanks," I gritted out bitterly, swinging the bag over my shoulder.

Ares smirked at me, fiery eyes flickering over me with a familiar look. I shifted uncomfortably. "I'll see you around Punkette," he declared, slinging his leg over his overly-large bike. "Never know, what with your looks, give it a few years and maybe I'll sweep you off your feet."

I choked in shock, while Grover grabbed onto Luke who had started forward with a furious expression. Ares gave a dark laugh and sped off, dust being kicked up behind him.

"That no-good, sonova-" Luke began to snarl as soon as Ares was gone.

"Yeah no kidding," I agreed darkly, still flustered. "I can't believe-"

"Uh, guys," Grover cut in anxiously. "I hate to interrupt but."

He pointed toward the diner. At the register, the last two customers were paying their check, two men in identical black coveralls, with a white logo on their backs that matched the one on the KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL truck.

"If we're taking the zoo express," Grover said, "we need to hurry."

I didn't like it, but we had no better option. The next train wasn't until tomorrow night and it took too long. Besides, I'd seen enough of Denver. We ran across the street and climbed in the back of the big rig, closing the doors behind us.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was like the world's biggest pan of kitty litter. I felt like I was going to throw up from it. But the smell wasn't half as disgusting as the sight of the inside.

The trailer was dark inside until I uncapped Anaklusmos. The blade cast a faint bronze light over a very sad scene. Sitting in a row of filthy metal cages were three of the most pathetic zoo animals I'd ever beheld: a zebra, a male albino lion, and some weird antelope thing I didn't know the name for.

Someone had thrown the lion a sack of turnips, which he obviously didn't want to eat. The zebra and the antelope had each gotten a Styrofoam tray of hamburger meat. The zebra's mane was matted with chewing gum, like somebody had been spitting on it in their spare time. The antelope had a stupid silver birthday balloon tied to one of his horns that read OVER THE HILL!

Apparently, nobody had wanted to get close enough to the lion to mess with him, but the poor thing was pacing around on soiled blankets, in a space way too small for him, panting from the stuffy heat of the trailer. He had flies buzzing around his pink eyes and his ribs showed through his white fur.

I put my hand over my mouth in horror at the brutal scene.

"This is kindness?" Grover yelled. "Humane zoo transport?"

He probably would've gone right back outside to beat up the truckers with his reed pipes, and I would've helped him, but just then the trucks engine roared to life, the trailer started shaking, and we were forced to sit down or fall down.

We huddled in the corner on some mildewed feed sacks, trying to ignore the smell and the heat and the flies. Grover talked to the animals in a series of goat bleats, but they just stared at him sadly. We were all in favour of breaking the cages and freeing them on the spot, but I reluctantly pointed out it wouldn't do much good until the truck stopped moving. Besides, I had a feeling we might look a lot better to the lion than those turnips.

I found a water jug, used my powers to remove the dirt and refilled their bowls, then used Anaklusmos to drag the mismatched food out of their cages. I gave the meat to the lion and split the turnips between the zebra and the antelope.

Grover calmed the antelope down, while I used my Swiss Army knife to cut the balloon off his horn. I wanted to cut the gum out of the zebra's mane, too, but we decided that would be too risky with the truck bumping around. We told Grover to promise the animals we'd help them more in the morning, then we settled in for night.

Grover curled up on a turnip sack; Luke opened our bag of Double Stuffed Oreos and started to nibble on one half-heartedly; meanwhile I tried to cheer myself up by concentrating on the fact that we were halfway to Los Angeles. Halfway to our destination. It was only June fourteenth. The solstice wasn't until the twenty-first. We could make it in plenty of time.

On the other hand, I had no idea what to expect next. The gods kept toying with me. At least Hephaestus had the decency to be honest about it—he'd put up cameras and advertised me as entertainment. But even when the cameras weren't rolling, I had a feeling my quest was being watched. I was a source of amusement for the gods. That reminded me.

"Hey," I said to Luke, "I'm sorry for freaking out back at the water park."

"That's okay." He waved me off.

"It's just..." I shuddered. "Snakes."

"Why though?" He asked curiously. "Were you bitten by one at some point or something?"

I shrugged. "No idea," I said honestly. "Maybe because one got into my cot when I was a toddler? I just know that I went to the zoo for the first time at six and screamed my head off in the reptile house."

"You handled Medusa just fine," he pointed out. I shrugged again.

"I didn't see her hair. But anyways, thanks. I'd've been screwed without you there, I can admit it."

He flashed me his crooked grin, and I was grateful that the darkness hid the flush I felt on my cheeks.

"We're a team, remember?" He told me. "Besides, we would've been doomed without Grover."

I thought he was asleep, but he mumbled from the corner, "I am pretty amazing, amn't I?"

Luke and I laughed. A few minutes later, Grover started to snore, and I marvelled enviously at his ability to fall asleep so easily. We rode in silence for a few miles, bumping around on the feed sacks. The zebra munched a turnip. The lion licked the last of the hamburger meat off his lips and looked at me hopefully.

Luke rubbed his necklace like he was deep in thought.

"That pine-tree bead," I said, breaking our silence. "Is that from your first year?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Every August, the counsellors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year's beads. I've got Thalia's pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress—now that was a weird summer..."

"I need to hear that story at some point," I grinned. I reached up to touch my own necklace, an antique locket that had been passed through my family for three generations before me. Luke's gaze followed my movement.

"It's a family heirloom," I explained. My eyes went to his scar and I chewed on my lip, debating whether to ask about it or not.

Luke realized what I was looking at and sighed, pulling me to rest my head on his shoulder.

"My mother has mental issues," he revealed. "She gets these fits and I ended up running away when I was nine. Met Thalia a while later. Annabeth a few months after that. Before we met Grover, Thalia got badly hurt while we were near my house, so we ended up going there to patch her up.

Hermes was there, and he told me after I got to Camp, he would organize a quest for me. And he did. I was assigned to steal the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides. I got my scar from Ladon, the dragon who guards the tree. Not very interesting really."

I got the hint and changed the subject. Soon enough, the rocking of the van let me drift off into sleep.

My nightmare started out as something I'd dreamed a million times before every test I took: I was being forced to take a standardized exam while wearing a straitjacket. All the other kids were going out to recess, and the teacher kept saying, "Come on, Ana. You're not stupid, are you? Pick up your pencil."

Then the dream strayed from the usual.

I looked over at the next desk and saw a girl sitting there, also wearing a straitjacket. She was my age, with unruly black, punk-style hair, dark eyeliner around her electric blue eyes, and freckles across her nose. Somehow, I knew who she was. She was Thalia, daughter of Zeus.

She struggled against the straitjacket, glared at me in frustration, and snapped, "Well, Kelp Head? One of us has to get out of here."

She's right, my dream-self thought. I'm going back to that cavern. I'm going to give The Voice a piece of my mind.

The straitjacket melted off me. I fell through the classroom floor. The teacher's voice changed until it was cold and evil, echoing from the depths of a great chasm.

 _"Ana Jackson,"_ it said. _"Yes, the exchange went well, I see."_

I was back in the dark cavern, spirits of the dead drifting around me. Unseen in the pit, the monstrous thing was speaking, but this time it wasn't addressing me. The numbing power of its voice seemed directed somewhere else.

" _And she suspects nothing?"_ it asked.

Another voice, one I almost recognized, answered at my shoulder. _"Nothing, my lord. She is as ignorant as the rest."_

I looked over, but no one was there. The speaker was invisible.

 _"Deception upon deception,"_ the thing in the pit mused aloud. _"Excellent."_ He said it in that sinister movie villain way. You know, _egg_ -sal-lent.

 _"Truly, my lord,"_ said the voice next to me, _"You are well-named the Crooked One. But was it really necessary? I could have brought you what I stole directly —"_

 _"You?"_ the monster said in scorn. _"You have already shown your limits. You would have failed me completely had I not intervened."_

 _"But, my lord—"_

 _"Peace, little servant. Our six months have bought us much. Zeus's anger has grown. Poseidon has played his most desperate card. Now we shall use it against him. Shortly you shall have the reward you wish, and your revenge. As soon as both items are delivered into my hands ... but wait. She is here."_

 _"What?"_ The invisible servant suddenly sounded tense. _"You summoned her, my lord?"_

 _"No."_ The fullforce of the monster's attention was now pouring over me, freezing me in place. _"Blast her father's blood—she is too changeable, too unpredictable. The girl brought herself hither._ "

 _"Impossible!"_ the servant cried.

I need to wake up, I thought, feeling The Voice 'turn' towards me. Now! My eyes snapped open, and I gasped frantically for breath as my adrenaline crashed.

"The truck's stopped," Grover warned me. "We think they're coming to check on the animals."

"Hide!" Luke hissed. He had it easy. He just put on Annabeth's magic cap and disappeared. Grover and I had to dive behind feed sacks and hope we looked like turnips. At the same time, if someone ever dared to compare me to a vegetable, they'd get to Hades the quick way. I'm just saying.

The trailer doors creaked open. Sunlight and heat poured in.

"Man!" one of the truckers said, waving his hand in front of his ugly nose. "I wish I hauled appliances." He climbed inside and poured some water from a jug into the animals' dishes.

"You hot, big boy?" he asked the lion, then splashed the rest of the bucket right in the lion's face.

The lion roared in indignation.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the man said.

Next to me, under the turnip sacks, Grover tensed. For a peace-loving herbivore, he looked downright murderous. In fairness to him though, I would happily hold them down while he bludgeoned them both to death with his pipes. It seemed like a good way for them to die.

The trucker threw the antelope a squashed-looking Happy Meal bag. He smirked at the zebra. "How ya doin', Stripes? Least we'll be getting rid of you this stop. You like magic shows? You're gonna love this one. They're gonna saw you in half!" Sick, twisted, disgusting bastard.

The zebra, wild-eyed with fear, looked straight at me.

There was no sound, but as clear as day, I heard it say: _Free me, lady. Please._

I was too stunned to react.

There was a loud knock, knock, knock on the side of the trailer.

The trucker inside with us yelled, "What do you want, Eddie?" Always knew I hated that name.

A voice outside—it must've been Eddie's—shouted back, "Maurice? What'd ya say?"

"What are you banging for?"

Knock, knock, knock.

Our guy Maurice rolled his eyes and went back outside, cursing at Eddie for being an idiot.

A second later, Luke appeared next to me. He must've done the banging to get Maurice out of the trailer.

"This transport business can't be legal," he declared. I nodded in agreement.

"No kidding," Grover said. He paused, as if listening. "The lion says these guys are animal smugglers!"

 _That's right,_ the zebra's voice said in my mind.

"We've got to free them!" Grover said. He and Luke both looked at me, waiting for my lead. I stayed calm on the outside, but inside my thoughts were racing by too fast to process them properly.

I'd heard the zebra talk, but not the lion. Why? Maybe it was another learning disability ... I could only understand zebras? Then I thought: horses. Hadn't Poseidon created horses? Was a zebra close enough to a horse? Was that why I could understand it?

The zebra said, _Open my cage, lady. Please. I'll be fine after that._

Outside, Eddie and Maurice were still yelling at each other, but I knew they'd be coming inside to torment the animals again any minute. I grabbed Riptide and slashed the lock off the zebra's cage.

The zebra burst out. It turned to me and bowed. _Thank you, lady_.

Grover held up his hands and said something to the zebra in goat talk, like a blessing.

Just as Maurice was poking his head back inside to check out the noise, the zebra leaped over him and into the street. There was yelling and screaming and cars honking. We rushed to the doors of the trailer in time to see the zebra galloping down a wide boulevard lined with hotels and casinos and neon signs. We'd just released a zebra in Las Vegas.

At least he wouldn't stand out.

Maurice and Eddie ran after it, with a few policemen running after them, shouting, "Hey! You need a permit for that!"

"Now would be a good time to leave," I said as I snatched up my bag, Luke grabbing Ares' one.

"The other animals first," Grover insisted.

Luke and I cut the locks. Then Grover raised his hands and spoke the same goat-blessing he'd used for the zebra.

"Good luck," I told the animals. The antelope and the lion burst out of their cages and went off together into the streets.

Some tourists screamed. Most just backed off and took pictures, probably thinking it was some kind of stunt by one of the casinos.

"Will the animals be okay?" I asked Grover. "I mean, the desert and all—"

"Don't worry," he said. "I placed a satyr's sanctuary on them."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they'll reach the wild safely," he said. "They'll find water, food, shade, whatever they need until they find a safe place to live."

"Why can't you place a blessing like that on us?" I asked.

"It only works on wild animals."

"That sucks," I complained.

"Cheer up Ariel," Luke said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Come on. Let's get out of this piece of crap."

We stumbled out into the desert afternoon. It was a hundred and ten degrees, easy, and we must've looked like deep-fried vagrants, but everybody was too interested in the wild animals to pay us much attention.

We passed the Monte Carlo and the MGM. We passed pyramids, a pirate ship, and the Statue of Liberty, which was a pretty small replica, but still made me homesick.

I wasn't sure what we were looking for. Maybe just a place to get out of the heat for a few minutes, find a sandwich and a glass of lemonade, make a new plan for getting west.

We must have taken a wrong turn, because we found ourselves at a dead end, standing in front of the Lotus Hotel and Casino. The entrance was a huge neon flower, the petals lighting up and blinking. No one was going in or out, but the glittering chrome doors were open, spilling out air-conditioning that smelled like flowers—lotus blossom, maybe. I'd never smelled one, so I wasn't sure.

The doorman smiled at us. "Hey, kids. You look tired. You want to come in and sit down?"

I was always wary of strangers, but I'd become full on paranoid in the past week or so. I figured anybody might be a monster or a god. You just couldn't tell. But this guy was normal. One look at him, and I could see. Besides, I was so relieved to hear somebody who sounded sympathetic that I nodded and said we'd love to come in. Inside, we took one look around, and Grover said, "Whoa."

The whole lobby was a giant game room. And I'm not talking about cheesy old Pac-Man games or slot machines. There was an indoor waterslide snaking around the glass elevator, which went straight up at least forty floors. There was a climbing wall on the side of one building, and an indoor bungee-jumping bridge. There were virtual-reality suits with working laser guns. And hundreds of video games, each one the size of a widescreen TV.

Basically, you name it, this place had it. There were a few other kids playing, but not that many. No waiting for any of the games. There were waitresses and snack bars all around, serving every kind of food you can imagine.

"Hey!" a bellhop said. At least I guessed he was a bellhop. He wore a white-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt with lotus designs, shorts, and flip-flops. "Welcome to the Lotus Casino. Here's your room key."

I stammered, "Um, but..."

"No, no," he waved me off, laughing. "The bill's taken care of. No extra charges, no tips. Just go on up to the top floor, loom 4001. If you need anything, like extra bubbles for the hot tub, or skeet targets for the shooting range, or whatever, just call the front desk. Here are your LotusCash cards. They work in the restaurants and on all the games and rides."

He handed us each a green plastic credit card.

I knew there must be some mistake. Obviously he thought we were some millionaire's kids. But I took the card and said, "How much is on here?"

His eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when does it run out of cash?"

He laughed. "Oh, you're making a joke. Hey, that's cool. Enjoy your stay."

We took the elevator upstairs and checked out our room. It was a suite with three separate bedrooms and a bar stocked with candy, sodas, and chips. A hotline to room service. Fluffy towels and water beds with feather pillows. A big-screen television with satellite and high-speed Internet.

The balcony had its own hot tub, and sure enough, there was a skeet-shooting machine and a shotgun, so you could launch clay pigeons right out over the Las Vegas skyline and plug them with your gun. I didn't see how that could be legal, but I thought it was pretty cool looking. The view over the Strip and the desert was amazing, though I doubted we'd ever find time to look at the view with a room like this.

"Oh, gods," Luke breathed, slack-jawed. "This place is ..."

"Sweet," Grover said. "Absolutely sweet."

There were clothes in the closet, and they fit me. I frowned, thinking that this was a little strange. Then I shrugged and I threw Ares' backpack in the trash can. Wouldn't need that anymore. When we left, I could just buy more supplies at the hotel store.

I took a shower, which felt awesome after a week of grimy travel. I changed clothes, ate a bag of chips, drank three Cokes, and came out feeling better than I had in a long time. In the back of my mind, some small problem kept nagging me. I'd had a dream or something ... I needed to talk to my friends. But I was sure it could wait.

I came out of the bedroom and found that Luke and Grover had also showered and changed clothes. Grover was eating potato chips to his heart's content, while Luke had turned on Die Hard.

"Boys," I snorted.

"It's awesome," Luke defended his movie choice.

"I feel good," Grover said. "I love this place."

I had to agree. This place was better than pretty much everywhere else I'd ever slept in.

"So what now?" Luke asked. "Sleep?"

Grover and I looked at each other and grinned. We both held up our green plastic LotusCash cards.

"Play time," I grinned.

I couldn't remember the last time I had so much fun. I came from a relatively poor background. My idea of a splurge was eating out at Burger King and renting a video. A five-star Vegas hotel? Forget it.

I bungee-jumped the lobby five or six times, did the waterslide, snowboarded the artificial ski slope, and played virtual-reality laser tag and FBI sharpshooter. I saw Grover a few times, going from game to game. He really liked the reverse hunter thing—where the deer go out and shoot the rednecks. Frankly, it was kind of weird.

Luke was playing various theft and battle related games. as if that wasn't how spent his regular time as well.

I'm not sure when I first realized something was wrong.

Probably, it was when I noticed the guy standing next to me at VR sharpshooters. He was about thirteen, I guess, but his clothes were weird. I thought he was some Elvis impersonator's son. He wore bell-bottom jeans and a red T-shirt with black piping, and his hair was permed and gelled like a New Jersey girl's on homecoming night.

We played a game of sharpshooters together and he said, "Groovy, man. Been here two weeks, and the games keep getting better and better."

Groovy? Who the fuck says groovy anymore?

Later, while we were talking, I said something was "sick," and he looked at me kind of startled, as if he'd never heard the word used that way before.

He said his name was Darrin, but as soon as I started asking him questions he got bored with me and started to go back to the computer screen.

"Hey, Darrin?" I said, a feeling of unease in my stomach, and a pounding in my head.

"What?"

"What year is it?"

He frowned at me. "In the game?"

"No. In real life."

He had to think about it. "1977."

"No," I denied, getting a little scared. "Really."

"Hey, girlfriend. Bad vibes. I got a game happening."

After that he totally ignored me.

I started talking to people, and I found it wasn't easy. They were glued to the TV screen, or the video game, or their food, or whatever. I found a guy who told me it was 1985. Another guy told me it was 1993. They all claimed they hadn't been in here very long, a few days, a few weeks at most. They didn't really know and they didn't care.

Then it occurred to me: how long had I been here? It seemed like only a couple of hours, but was it?

I tried to remember why we were here. We were going to Los Angeles. We were supposed to find the entrance to the Underworld. The world, the world was going to end if we didn't stop it! I rushed around the room in search of the boys.

I found Luke robbing the White House.

"Come on," I told him. "We've got to get out of here."

No response.

I shook him. "Luke?"

He looked up, annoyed. Frankly, I'd never seen him giving me a look like that, and it only reinforced my stress level. The way things were going, I'd be on blood pressure tablets by the time I turned fourteen.

"What?" Luke snapped at me.

"We need to leave."

"Leave? What are you talking about? I've just got past the third level—"

"This place is a trap."

He didn't respond until I shook him again. "What?"

"Oh for the love of Olympus!" I cried. Then I slapped him. Hard.

That jarred him. His vision cleared. "Oh my gods," he said. "How long have we—"

"I don't know, but we've got to find Grover."

We went searching, and found him still playing Virtual Deer Hunter.

"Grover!" we both shouted.

He said, "Die, human! Die, silly polluting nasty person!"

"Grover!"

He turned the plastic gun on me and started clicking, as if I were just another image from the screen.

I looked at Luke, and together we took Grover by the arms and dragged him away. His flying shoes sprang to life and started tugging his legs in the other direction as he shouted, "No! I just got to a new level! No!"

The Lotus bellhop hurried up to us. "Well, now, are you ready for your platinum cards?"

"We're leaving," I told him.

"Such a shame," he said, and I got the feeling that he really meant it, that we'd be breaking his heart if we went. Well, he'd just have to deal. He'd have no guests at all if Zeus and Poseidon tore the world apart in the midst of their temper tantrum. Probably no wifi either.

"We just added an entire new floor full of games for platinum-card members."

He held out the cards, and I wanted one. I knew that if I took one, I'd never leave. I'd stay here, happy forever, playing games forever, and soon I'd forget my mom, and my quest, and maybe even my own name. I'd be playing virtual rifleman with groovy Disco Darrin forever.

Grover reached for the card, but Luke yanked back his arm and shook his head with a firm, "No, thanks."

We walked toward the door, and as we did, the smell of the food and the sounds of the games seemed to get more and more inviting. I thought about our room upstairs. We could just stay the night, sleep in a real bed for once...

Then we burst through the doors of the Lotus Casino and ran down the sidewalk. It still _felt_ like afternoon, about the same time of day we'd gone into the casino, but something was wrong. The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with heat lightning flashing out in the desert.

Ares' backpack was slung over Luke's shoulder, and the one from Camp was over mine. Both of which were odd, because I was sure I had left them in room 4001, but at the moment I had other problems to worry about.

I ran to the nearest newspaper stand and read the year first. Thank the gods, it was the same year it had been when we went in. Then I noticed the date and moaned in horror: June twentieth.

We had been in the Lotus Casino for five days. We had only one day left until the summer solstice. One day to complete our quest.


	17. We Go Bed Shopping

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

**We Go Bed Shopping**

It was Luke's idea.

He loaded us into the back of a Vegas taxi as if we actually had money, and told the driver, "Los Angeles, please."

The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized us up. "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front."

"You accept casino debit cards?" Luke asked as I rubbed my jeans anxiously and tried not to have a _complete_ breakdown at the sudden reduction of time for our deadline. One day to get to LA, find the Bolt and get it back to New York to give to Zeus. This was a disaster. The world was going to end because of a goddamn arcade game.

The cabbie shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first."

Luke handed him his green LotusCash card.

He looked at it sceptically.

"Swipe it," Luke urged him.

He did. His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign.

The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at us, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles... uh, Your Highness?"

"The Santa Monica Pier." Luke sat up straighter, smirking at the title. I snapped out of my despair long enough to roll my eyes at him. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change."

A few minutes later I was cursing him for saying that. The cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert.

The good thing is that on the road, we had plenty of time to talk. I told Luke and Grover about my latest dream, but the details got sketchier the more I tried to remember them. The Lotus Casino seemed to have short-circuited my memory. I couldn't recall what the invisible servant's voice had sounded like, though I was sure it was somebody I knew. The servant had called the monster in the pit something other than "my lord" ... some special name or title...

"The Silent One?" Luke suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."

"Maybe ..." I said, though neither sounded quite right.

"That throne room sounds like Hades'," Grover said. "That's the way it's usually described."

I shook my head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit ... I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

Luke's eyes widened. A look of disturbed realization crossed his face and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"What?" I asked immediately.

"Oh ... nothing. I was just—No, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—"

"Like what?"

"I don't know," he said. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."

"I think it was a girl, and the thing in the pit was male," I muttered absently, frowning at my knees and hoping the driver was too focused on driving without crashing to listen to us.

"But if I'd already retrieved the bolt," I said, "why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"

"To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into doing something for you."

I ignored the implied bringing my mom back to life thing.

I whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat," I said instead.

"Why, thank you."

"But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," I said. "If the Master Bolt is one, what's the other?"

Grover shook his head, clearly mystified.

Luke was looking at me as if he knew my next question, and was silently willing me not to ask it. I asked it anyway.

"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" I questioned him. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?"

"Ana ... let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades ... No. It has to be Hades."

That was a scary thought. Hades was the _better_ option. I didn't press anymore. I really didn't want to think about it.

Wasteland rolled by. We passed a sign that said CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES.

I had the feeling I was missing one simple, critical piece of information. It was like when I stared at a common word I should know, but I couldn't make sense of it because one or two letters were floating around. The more I thought about my quest, the more I was sure that confronting Hades wasn't the real answer. There was something else going on, something even more dangerous.

The problem was: we were hurtling toward the Underworld at ninety-five miles an hour, betting that Hades had the master bolt. If we got there and found out we were wrong, we wouldn't have time to correct ourselves. The solstice deadline would pass and war would begin.

"The answer is in the Underworld," Luke assured me. "You saw spirits of the dead, Ana. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing."

He tried to boost our morale by suggesting different strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead, but my heart wasn't in it. There were just too many unknown factors. It was like cramming for a test without knowing the subject. And believe me, I'd done that enough times to know it always went badly.

The cab sped west. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead. Every time the brakes hissed on an eighteen-wheeler, it reminded me of Echidna's reptilian voice.

At sunset, the taxi dropped us at the beach in Santa Monica. It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches do in the movies, only it smelled worse. There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave.

Grover, Luke, and I walked down to the edge of the surf.

"What now?" Luke wondered, raking a hand through his dirty-blonde hair.

The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. I thought about how long it had been since I'd stood on the beach at Montauk, on the opposite side of the country, looking out at a different sea.

How could there be a god who could control all that? What did my science teacher used to say—two-thirds of the earth's surface was covered in water? How could I be the child of someone that powerful?

I stepped into the surf.

"Ana?" Luke said. "What are you doing?"

I kept walking, up to my waist, then my chest.

He called after me, "Ana, that seems like a really bad idea. There're all kinds of toxic—"

That's when my head went under.

I held my breath at first. It's difficult to intentionally inhale water. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I gasped. Sure enough, I could breathe normally.

I walked down into the shoals. I shouldn't have been able to see through the murk, but somehow I could tell where everything was. I could sense the rolling texture of the bottom. I could make out sand-dollar colonies dotting the sandbars. I could even see the currents, warm and cold streams swirling together.

I felt something rub against my leg. I looked down and almost shot out of the water like a ballistic missile. Sliding along beside me was a five-foot-long mako shark.

But the thing wasn't attacking. It was nuzzling me. Heeling like a dog. Tentatively, I touched its dorsal fin. It bucked a little, as if inviting me to hold tighter. I grabbed the fin with both hands. It took off, pulling me along. The shark carried me down into the darkness. It deposited me at the edge of the ocean proper, where the sand bank dropped off into a huge chasm. It was like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon at midnight, not being able to see much, but knowing the void was right there.

The surface shimmered maybe a hundred and fifty feet above. I knew I should've been crushed by the pressure. Then again, I shouldn't have been able to breathe. I wondered if there was a limit to how deep I could go, if I could sink straight to the bottom of the Pacific.

Then I saw something glimmering in the darkness below, growing bigger and brighter as it rose toward me. A woman's voice, like my mother's, called: "Ana Jackson."

As she got closer, her shape became clearer. She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her, and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful I hardly noticed the stallion-sized sea horse she was riding.

She dismounted. The sea horse and the mako shark whisked off and started playing something that looked like tag. The underwater lady smiled at me. "You've come far, Ana Jackson. Well done."

I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I bowed. "You're the woman who spoke to me in the Mississippi River."

"Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honour Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court."

"And ... you serve in Poseidon's court?"

She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. And there has never been a mortal daughter of Him. We have watched you with great interest."

Suddenly I remembered faces in the waves off Montauk Beach when I was a little girl, reflections of smiling women. Like so many of the weird things in my life, I'd never given it much thought before.

"What does my father want?" I asked, shifting uneasily.

A cold current rose out of the depths.

"Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told me. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favouritism."

"I'm not judging him," I half-lied. I didn't care about him not influencing my life, but I definitely resented all my mother suffered because he couldn't keep it in his pants. That I definitely judged him for. He should have left her alone.

"The gods can work by indirect influence only," the Nereid told me. "That is why I give you a warning, and a gift."

She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm.

"I know you journey to Hades' realm," she said. "Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?"

"No."

"Ah, but you have something else, Ana. You have gifts you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold a great and terrible future for you, should you survive to manhood. Poseidon would not have you die before your time. Therefore take these, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet."

"What will happen?"

"That," she said, "depends on the need. But remember: what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea."

"What about the warning?" Her eyes flickered with green light. "Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can, make you mistrust your own judgment. Once you are in his realm, he will never willingly let you leave. Keep faith. Good luck, Anaea Jackson."

She summoned her sea horse and rode toward the void.

"Wait!" I called. "At the river, you said not to trust the gifts. What gifts?"

"Good-bye, young heroine," she called back, her voice fading into the depths. "You must listen to your heart." She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone.

I wanted to follow her down into the darkness. I wanted _real_ answers, not all that cryptic stuff. But I looked up at the sunset darkening on the surface. My friends were waiting. We had so little time...

I kicked upward toward the shore.

When I reached the beach, my clothes dried instantly. I told Grover and Luke what had happened, and showed them the pearls.

Luke grimaced. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch,'" he quoted. "That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait."

On that happy thought, we turned our backs on the sea.

With some spare change from Ares' backpack, we took the bus into West Hollywood. I showed the driver the Underworld address slip I'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.

We thanked him and got off quickly at the next stop.

We wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book.

Twice, we ducked into alleys to avoid cop cars. I could feel my despair taking over as my watch seemed to taunt me.

It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a New Yorker who regularly slept on the streets. I don't scare easy.

But L.A. had a totally different feel from New York. Back home, everything seemed close. It didn't matter how big the city was, you could get anywhere without getting lost. The street pattern and the subway made sense. There was a system to how things worked. A kid could be safe as long as he wasn't stupid.

L.A. wasn't like that. It was spread out, chaotic, hard to move around. It reminded me of Ares. It wasn't enough for L.A. to be big; it had to prove it was big by being loud and strange and difficult to navigate, too. I didn't know how we were ever going to find the entrance to the Underworld by tomorrow, the summer solstice.

We walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of mugging.

As we hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."

Because he was an idiot, Grover stopped. As a result, so did we.

Before I knew it, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all—white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being bad boys.

Instinctively, I uncapped Riptide. When the sword appeared out of nowhere, the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at me with a switchblade.

I made the mistake of swinging.

The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred percent mortal, because the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down. "What the ..."

I figured I had about three seconds before his shock turned to anger. "Run!" I screamed at Luke and Grover.

We pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not knowing where we were going. We turned a sharp corner.

"There!" Luke shouted.

Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE.

"Crusty's WaterBed Palace?" Grover translated.

It didn't sound like a place I'd ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified.

We burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside.

"I think we lost them," Grover panted.

A voice behind us boomed, "Lost who?"

We all jumped.

Standing behind us was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had grey, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved toward us slowly, but I got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to.

His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck—I couldn't even count them.

"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile.

I resisted the urge to say, Yes, you are.

"Sorry to barge in," I told him. "We were just browsing."

"You mean hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?"

I was about to say No, thanks, when he put a huge paw on my shoulder and steered me deeper into the showroom.

There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size.

"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavoured Jell-O.

"Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, any-way.

"Um," I said, "I don't think ..."

"Million-hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."

"Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost."

"Almost what?" I asked warily, instantly suspicious.

He looked at Luke. "Do me a favour and try this one over here, honey. Might fit."

Luke said, "But what—"

He patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and led him over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Luke didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her.

"Hey!" he protested.

Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!"

Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Luke, holding him to the mattress. Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down.

"N-not c-c-cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!"

The giant looked at Luke, then turned toward me and grinned. "Almost, darn it."

I tried to step away, but his hand shot out and clamped around the back of my neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."

"Let my friends go."

"Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first."

"What do you mean?"

"All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit."

Luke and Grover kept struggling while I racked my brain to figure out what 'mythical' figure we were dealing with.

"Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!"

A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Grover and Luke's ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling my friends from both ends.

"Don't worry," Crusty told me, "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"

"I prefer sleeping on the ground, thanks," I smiled insincerely at him. He frowned, shaking his head disapprovingly at me.

I changed the subject before he could start extolling the virtues of feather mattresses.

"Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" I asked.

"Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted.

"The Stretcher," I said. I remembered the story now: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with excess hospitality on his way to Athens.

"Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce Procrustes? Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that."

"You're right. It's got a good ring to it."

His eyes lit up. "You think so?"

"Oh, absolutely," I said. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"

He grinned hugely, but his fingers didn't loosen on my neck. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"

"Not too many."

"That's right!"

"Ana!" Luke bellowed. "This is _not_ how I want to get to the Underworld!"

"Don't mind him," I told Procrustes, flipping my ponytail over my shoulder. "She's impossible."

The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."

"Outrageous," I agreed. "What do you do if they're longer than six feet?"

"Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix."

He let go of my neck, but before I could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass axe. He said, "I just centre the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end."

"Ah," I said, swallowing hard. "Sensible."

"I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!"

The ropes were really stretching my friends now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds, like a strangled goose.

"So, Crusty ..." I said, trying to keep my voice light. I glanced at the sales tag on the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?"

"Absolutely. Try it out."

"Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"

"Guaranteed."

"No way."

"Way."

I shook my head. "I don't believe it," I denied, crossing my arms.

"It's true," he insisted.

I smirked as I realized that he was right where I wanted him. "Show me."

He sat down eagerly on the bed, patted the mattress. "No waves. See?"

I snapped my fingers. "Ergo."

Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress.

"Hey!" he yelled.

"Centre him just right," I said.

The ropes readjusted themselves at my command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom.

"No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo."

I uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments ..."

I had no qualms about what I was about to do. If Crusty were human, I couldn't hurt him anyway. If he was a monster, he deserved to turn into dust for a while.

"You drive a hard bargain," he told me. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models.'"

"I think I'll start with the top." I raised my sword.

"No money down! No interest for six months!"

I swung the sword. Crusty stopped making offers.

I cut the ropes on the other beds. Luke and Grover got to their feet, groaning and wincing and cursing me a lot.

"You look taller," I said.

Luke gave me a mock scowl while Grover actually looked down at himself to check and see if there was a difference in his height.

I looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters—"The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map.

"Come on," I told my friends.

"Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were almost stretched to death."

"Then you're ready for the Underworld," I said. "It's only a block from here."


	18. Spot

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO?HOO/TOA. I also hate the chapter. I'm a huge animal person, and it breaks my heart to think of poor Cerberus on his own without being played or tended to. (BTW, Cerberus' name really does mean Spot!)**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

**Spot: Guardian of the Underworld**

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stencilled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

"That's right Grover," Luke said to him encouragingly. "We're about to enter the Land of the Dead, but you just keep thinking positively. Okay, dude?"

"Gotcha," Grover swallowed. He looked like he was about to be sick, and I didn't feel much better than he looked.

"Okay," I exhaled anxiously, dusted off my jeans as if it made any sort of difference to the dirt caked on them, pushed open the door, and walked inside. The boys followed, tension radiating from all of us.

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cacti grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking ... transparent. I could see right through their bodies. It made me shiver in discomfort.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-coloured skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

"So," Luke shoved his hands in his jacket pockets as he sauntered up to, what was his name? I was always mixing it up with Chiron in class.

Charon? I think it's Charon, who was lounging at the security desk. "Is this where you go to die?"

Charon closed his newspaper and leaned over the desk to see us better. "Pretty much. How'd you guys kick the bucket?"

"Oh, you know, car crash," Luke shrugged. "Actually, I'm fairly sure this is just a really detailed dream. Death is supposed to be all pearly gates and harps, right?"

"That's for Christians kid," Charon snorted. "Well, if you can pay for passage, I'll ferry you guys over to the Underworld on the next trip."

"And if we can't?" I spoke for the first time, feeling a shiver go up my spine at his answering grin. An immortal looking so pleased could only mean bad things for everyone else in existence.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," my voice was small. Grover gulped, shifting behind me.

"Well, lucky for us, we have money," Luke clapped his hands together and pulled out a few drachmae. Charon's eyes lit up greedily.

"Drachme! I haven't seen these in ages!" He scooped them to examine them, before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He got out from behind the desk, and leaned forward toward us to take a sniff. I leaned away automatically, Luke's hand going for his hidden sword. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," I insisted. Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I tried to sound braver than I felt. I don't think it worked though. My voice seemed kinda shrill to me.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed, flipping my hair. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh ... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said, fluttering my eyelashes innocently at him. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay." With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter. The boys shifted anxiously beside me.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lass, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades," I tempted him.

He sighed, giving in. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off." He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

I got a sudden dizzy feeling. We weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into grey hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

I blinked hard. When I opened my eyes, Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I managed.

At first I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull. The floor kept swaying.

Grover groaned, holding his stomach. "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"That's the River Styx," Luke whispered to me. "Unfulfilled dreams are tossed in by the dead on their way across."

I watched several other items appear and disappear as we passed, swallowing heavily. "It's-"

"Polluted," Charon interrupted me. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the colour of poison.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me ... they were dead. Luke's hand linked with mine, and I sighed with relief, grabbing Grover with my other hand. Pressing my fingers to their pulse points and feeling their heartbeats reminded me that we were alive.

I found myself muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one I had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his grey robe. I'd never seen such a bleak, depressing sight in my life.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mates, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

"Right," I mumbled, scrambling off of the boat with Luke's help. "Will do."

Charon counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We did the stupid, suicidal thing, and followed the spirits up a well-worn path that was made of something that was definitely not dirt.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS in Ancient Greek, Latin, English, and a bunch of other languages. At least I assumed it was all the same message. I don't speak or read Swedish. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades' door, was nowhere to be seen. I suppose I should thank the Fates for small mercies.

The dead were all queuing up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What's up with that?" I wondered. Luke glanced in the same direction I was looking at, giving a brief shrug and keeping one hand interlaced with mine while the other rested on the pommel of his sword.

"The fast one is going to Asphodel," he explained. "They don't want to risk being sent to Punishment so they go for eternal purgatory instead."

"And here spending eternity being tortured always sounded so fun to me," I deadpanned (whoops, pun unintended) in reply. Luke snorted darkly, both of us going back to keeping an eye on our surroundings.

"Look," Grover pointed out.

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." I did remember now. We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff.

"What're they doing to him?" I asked with morbid curiosity.

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds would be licking her lips with anticipation.

I decided to distract myself with confusing philosophical thoughts rather than think of that. "But if he's a preacher," I said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn, er, you're very _persistent,_ in that way."

"Fair enough," I shrugged.

I would ponder the possible existence of other deities outside the Greek pantheon later. Priorities, ya know. We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, but I still couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

Then, about fifty feet in front of us, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster. I hadn't seen it before because it was half transparent, like the dead. Until it moved, it blended with whatever was behind it. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid. And it was staring straight at me.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, mostly invisible, and had three heads.

My weak point for cute animals kicked. "Aww," I cooed. "He's so cute."

The boys cast me incredulous looks.

"Hello, hey, Ana," Luke waved at me. "You see how he's getting clearer? That's probably 'cause we're dying. We need to hurry and get past him. Quick."

"Right," I answered reluctantly as my anxiety returned. "I guess it's time for the plan then." I hated the plan.

The dog's middle head craned toward us. He was cute, but terrifying when it sniffed the air and growled. More terrifying then cute actually. I really hated the plan.

"I think he can smell the living," I added tensely. I really, _really_ hated the plan. A lot.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to me. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Luke said. I'd never heard his voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster. The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud it felt like my eyeballs were rattling.

"Can you understand him?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand him."

"What's he saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

"Oh."

Luke took a big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost I'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to smile, like we weren't about to die.

"Hey, Big Fella," Luke called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," he said weakly, as he waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on us, completely ignoring the spirits. We had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" Luke threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it slash into the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at us, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold. So much for _that_ plan. Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Now what?" Grover demanded, looking panicked. A memory surfaced in my mind, and I glanced around desperately to try and find what I needed.

"Um," Grover said. "Ana?"

"Yeah?" I rifled frantically through my pack, only half paying attention to him.

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well ... he's hungry."

Luke muttered a curse in Greek, unsheathing his sword and moving between the two of us and Cerberus just as I found what I wanted.

I triumphantly produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labelled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before the boys could stop me, I raised the ball high in the air and marched straight up to Cerberus.

"See the ball?" I shouted at him, waving it. "You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as the boys were. Luke hissed my name, eyeing Cerberus warily.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" I called again. I was completely sure that any moment I would become the world's largest Milkbone dog biscuit. At least my death would give my friends time to flee.

But instead of killing me, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

"Good boy!" I praised him breathlessly, throwing Cerberus the ball. He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" I ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at my feet.

"Good boy." I picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it. I turned slightly toward the boys. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

"But—" Luke began to object.

"Now," I ordered, in the same tone I was using on the dog.

The boys inched forward warily making Cerberus start to growl.

"Stay!" I instructed him. "If you want the ball, stay!" Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

They made it through. Thank the Gods.

"Good dog!" I praised him again. I held up the tattered red ball, and came to the conclusion that if I rewarded Cerberus, there'd be nothing left for another trick.

I threw the ball anyway. The monster's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, I walked briskly under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"How did you do that?" Luke asked me, sounding amazed.

"Obedience school," I explained, dismayed to discover that there were tears in my eyes. "One of my foster families had a Doberman... ."

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at my shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. I froze. I turned to face the dog, which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet. The sight genuinely broke my heart. Cerberus might have been the guard of the Underworld, but he was really just like every other dog in the world. He wanted love and to play. And I was abandoning him.

"Good boy," I repeated shakily, my voice sounding very melancholy and uncertain. The dog's heads turned sideways, as if worried about my.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," I promised, my lip trembling. "Would you like that?"

He whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll try to come visit you soon. I—I promise." I turned to the boys, ignoring the pain in my heart at leaving the sweet animal. "Let's go."

We pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

It was apparently an interdimensional fact. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while. Gods, when I translated his name it meant _Spot_! Spot of all things. Poor baby.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. The boys were good enough to pretend not to see me wipe a tear from my cheek as I listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance, longing for his new friend.


	19. Meeting Uncle Hades

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA. Thanks for all the lovely reviews, and to everyone who has faved, followed or reviewed, you guys make my day.**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

**I Meet My Uncle and Am Accused of Theft. Again**

First, I want you to imagine the largest concert crowd you've ever seen, or a football field packed with a million fans.

Now imagine a field a million times that big, packed with people, and imagine the electricity has gone out, and there is no noise, no light, no beach ball bouncing around over the crowd. Something tragic has happened backstage. Whispering masses of people are just milling around in the shadows, waiting for a concert that will never start.

If you can picture that, you have a pretty good idea what the Fields of Asphodel looked like. Not quite, but the best you're gonna get without seeing it in person.

The black grass had been trampled by eons of dead feet. A warm, moist wind blew like the breath of a swamp. Black trees—poplars, they're called—grew in clumps here and there.

The cavern ceiling was so high above us it might've been a bank of storm clouds, except for the stalactites, which glowed faint grey and looked wickedly pointed. I tried not to imagine they'd fall on us at any moment, but dotted around the fields were several that had fallen and impaled themselves in the black grass. I guess the dead didn't have to worry about little hazards like being speared by stalactites the size of booster rockets.

Luke, Grover, and I tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls and play-acting as zombies. I couldn't help looking for familiar faces among the spirits of Asphodel, but the dead are hard to look at. Their faces shimmer. They all look slightly angry or confused. They will come up to you and speak, but their voices sound like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realize you can't understand them, they frown and move away.

The dead aren't scary. They're just sad.

We crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read: JUDGMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION, Welcome, Newly Deceased! Out the back of the tent came two much smaller lines.

To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment, which glowed and smoked in the distance, a vast, cracked wasteland with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating the different torture areas.

Even from far away, I could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches or listen to opera music. I could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. And I saw worse tortures, too—things I don't want to describe. The images were branded on the inside of eyelids. Bye-bye, peaceful sleep, I will miss you.

The sound of screams made me shiver and move closer to the boys, who had also shifted closer to me, grim looks on their faces. Luke and I intertwined our fingers again.

The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led down toward a small valley surrounded by walls—a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld. Beyond the security gate were neighbourhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history, Roman villas and medieval castles and Victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in beautiful rainbow colours. I could hear laughter and smell delicious scents wafting from it, like barbecue and freshly baked cookies.

Elysium.

In the middle of that valley was a glittering blue lake, with three small islands like a vacation resort in the Bahamas. The Isles of the Blest, for people who had chosen to be reborn three times, and three times achieved Elysium. It was, depressingly, the smallest section of the Underworld.

I hoped Mom was there. If anyone deserved to spend their afterlife in Paradise, it was the kindest, most compassionate person, mortal or otherwise, who had ever lived.

I stared at it for a few more minutes before forcing my attention back to the task at hand. Wallow later, save the world now.

We left the judgment pavilion in silence and moved deeper into the Asphodel Fields. It got darker. The colours faded from our clothes. The crowds of chattering spirits began to thin. My head started to swim and I belatedly wondered if there was any air down here. Or at least enough for living mortals to survive temporarily.

After a few miles of walking, we began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. Looming on the horizon was a palace of glittering black obsidian. Above the parapets swirled three dark batlike creatures: the Furies. I got the feeling they were waiting for us.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.

"A couple of weeks and about two thousand miles too late," I answered bluntly. Luke gave a ghost of a smile, before his expression hardened again and he continued to scan our dismal surroundings.

"Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance ..."

"Grover," I gritted out through clenched teeth. "This is a very stressful situation for all of us, and you are not helpi-Luke!"

Luke had suddenly started to fly away, dragged by his backpack. "Ana!" he called back, looking panicked. "Some help would be good, Ariel!"

I got over being stunned and made a grab for his hand, but I reacted too late. He picked up speed, skidding downhill like a bobsled. We ran after him.

"Take off the bag!" I cried, but the problem was it was one of those bags that had shoulder and a waist strap. With his moment, Luke couldn't get himself out of it. In fact, it seemed the buckle around his waist was enchanted, because there was nothing but the strap. The buckle had disappeared and Luke's sword had fallen when he started flying so he couldn't try to cut it off either.

Grover and I kept after him, trying to keep him in sight as he ripped between the legs of spirits who chattered at him in annoyance.

For a horrifying moment I was sure he was going to barrel straight through the gates of Hades' palace, but instead he veered sharply to the right and he was dragged in the opposite direction.

The slope got steeper. Luke picked up speed, causing Grover and I to go into a sprint so we could keep him in sight. The cavern walls narrowed on either side, and I realized we'd entered some kind of side tunnel. No black grass or trees now, just rock underfoot, and the dim light of the stalactites above.

A sinister feeling seemed to radiate from the walls, and I felt my urgency increase. I knew this place. This tunnel lead to The Voice. We had to get out of here. Now.

"Luke!" I yelled, my voice echoing. "Hold on to something!"

"What?" he yelled back, sounding a bit winded.

He was grabbing at gravel, but there was nothing big enough to slow him down. My terror was growing the further inside we went, making it hard to focus and come up with an idea to get out of this latest disaster.

The tunnel got darker and colder. The hairs on my arms bristled. It smelled evil down here. It made me think of things I shouldn't even know about—blood spilled on an ancient stone altar, the foul breath of a murderer.

Then I saw what was ahead of us, and I stopped dead in my tracks. And, gods do I regret phrasing it that way given the circumstances.

The tunnel had widened into a huge dark cavern, and in the middle was a chasm the size of a city block. _The_ chasm.

Worst of all, Luke was sliding straight toward the edge.

"Ana, help!" He called desperately. From the look in his eyes, I knew he knew where we were as well. And where that hole lead to. I snapped out of my panic and bolted as fast as I could to him, feeling my messy ponytail slapping against my back as I ran.

Luke was yelling, clawing at the ground, but the bag kept dragging him toward the pit, and it didn't look like we could possibly get to him in time.

His reflexes and strength saved him. As he passed by a large black boulder, he somehow managed to grab it and hold on for dear life. He held on long enough that I was able to cut him free of the straps. I scratched his shoulders and stomach lightly in the process, but it was a small price to pay if you ask me.

We stood panting, and watched as the zip slid open. And that's when Annabeth's Yankees baseball cap came flying out and flung itself down into the abyss. The bag slumped down onto the ground, and on instinct I grabbed it.

Ignoring the boys' protests, I gave my own pack to Luke and slung the one from Ares over my shoulder. The straps had miraculously repaired themselves, but I didn't touch the waistband. No need to tempt the Fates after all.

"Ana," Luke said uneasily, looking around and gripping his sword, that I had thankfully thought to grab before starting the frantic chase. "This place."

I lifted a hand, crinkling my brow and cocking my head. I heard something—a deep whisper in the darkness. "Do you hear it?"

The sound was getting louder, a muttering, evil voice from far, far below us. Coming from the pit.

Grover started backing up, looking terrified. "Wh—what's that noise?"

Luke heard it too, now. I could see it in his eyes. "Tartarus. This is the entrance to Tartarus."

I summoned Anaklusmos and raised it. The bronze sword expanded, gleaming in the darkness, and the evil voice seemed to falter, just for a moment, before resuming its chant.

I could almost make out words now, ancient, ancient words, older even than Greek. As if …

"Magic," I said.

"We have to get out of here," Luke insisted, looking more serious than I had ever seen him. "Now. Before it finishes the spell."

Together, we turned and started to run back up the tunnel. My legs wouldn't move fast enough. Ares' backpack weighed me down. The voice got louder and angrier behind us, and we broke into a sprint.

Not a moment too soon. There was a cold blast of wind pulled at our backs, as if the entire pit were inhaling. For a terrifying moment, I lost ground, my feet slipping in the gravel. If we'd been any closer to the edge, we would've been sucked in.

We kept struggling stubbornly forward, and finally reached the top of the tunnel, where the cavern widened out into the Fields of Asphodel. The wind died. A wail of outrage echoed from deep in the tunnel. Something was _not_ happy we'd gotten away.

"What was that?" Grover panted, when we'd collapsed in the relative safety of a black poplar grove. "One of Hades' pets?"

Luke and I exchanged dark looks. An idea, a really terrifying, sinister idea was forming in the back of my mind. It had been forming for a while now, and I doubted I could keep silent about it much longer. From Luke's expression, I guessed he had the same train of thought as I did. And he was just as terrified as I was by the idea.

I returned my sword to its' hairpin form and rose to my feet, changing the subject. The thought of discussing my suspicions so close to the Pit of Monsters was not a good one. In any way, shape or form.

"Let's keep going." I looked at Luke, who had faint trickles of blood from the cuts I'd given him when I cut him out of the bag. "Can you walk?"

He gave a curt nod, tension lining his jaw as he clambered to his feet. I didn't blame him for being so grim-looking The feeling coming from the pit was so malicious, ancient and powerful that I was almost relieved to turn my back on that tunnel and head toward the palace of Hades. Almost.

The Furies circled the parapets, high in the gloom. The outer walls of the fortress glittered black, and the two-story-tall bronze gates stood wide open.

Up close, I saw that the engravings on the gates were scenes of death. Some were from modern times—an atomic bomb exploding over what I guessed must have been Hiroshima, a trench filled with gas mask-wearing soldiers, a line of African famine victims waiting with empty bowls—but all of them looked as if they'd been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago. I wondered morbidly if I was looking at ancient prophecies that had come true.

Inside the courtyard was the strangest garden I'd ever seen. Multicoloured mushrooms, poisonous shrubs, and weird luminous plants grew without sunlight. Precious jewels made up for the lack of flowers, piles of rubies as big as my fist, clumps of raw diamonds. Standing here and there like frozen party guests were Medusa's garden statues— petrified children, satyrs, and centaurs—all smiling grotesquely. Points for creepiest garden of the millennium I guess.

In the centre of the garden was an orchard of pomegranate trees, their orange blooms neon bright in the dark. "The garden of Persephone," Luke said with a grimace. "Keep walking."

I understood why he wanted to move on. The tart smell of those pomegranates was almost overwhelming. I had a sudden desire to eat them, but then I remembered the story of Persephone. One bite of Underworld food, and we would never be able to leave. Somehow I doubted Hades would be as obliging as he was to Demeter and Persephone to us. I pulled Grover away to keep him from picking a big juicy-looking one.

We walked silently up the steps of the palace, between black columns, through a black marble portico, and into the house of Hades. The entry hall had a polished bronze floor, which seemed to boil in the reflected torchlight. There was no ceiling, just the cavern roof, far above. Our footsteps echoed loudly on the polished dark floors, giving off an eerie feeling.

Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in military gear. Some wore Greek armour, some British redcoat uniforms, some camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears or muskets or M-16s. None of them bothered us, but their hollow eye sockets followed us as we walked down the hall, toward the big set of doors at the opposite end.

I almost felt offended that it was so stereotypical. Lime green would be more unique. And yes, I'm thinking random thoughts to distract myself from my impending doom. Why shouldn't I distract myself? I have the same rights as any US citizen, even if I'm a demigod. I'm still an American and I have the right to freedom of thought, thanks very much.

Two U.S. Marine skeletons guarded the doors. They grinned down at us, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held across their chests. At least I think it was a grin.

"You know," Grover mumbled, "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen."

"Lucky him," I mumbled back, shifting my bag. My backpack weighed a ton now. I couldn't figure out why. I wanted to open it, check to see if I had somehow picked up a stray bowling ball, but this wasn't the time. "Well, guys," I said. "I suppose we should ... knock?"

A hot wind blew down the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside.

"I guess we don't need to," Luke replied, stepping forward to enter first. He shot an ironic smile over his shoulder at us. "Age before beauty, right?"

The room inside looked just like in my dream, except this time the throne of Hades was occupied.

He was the third god I'd met, but the first who really struck me as _godlike._ He was at least ten feet tall, for one thing, and dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power.

He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and dangerous as a panther. Except that panthers can't make you spontaneously combust with a thought. Hades could.

I immediately felt like he should be giving the orders. He knew more than I did. He should be my master. Then I told myself to snap out of it. I scowled, irritated at the thought of anyone messing with my thoughts. I was seriously getting sick of it. My head, my thoughts. Screw with your mind, asshole.

Hades' aura was affecting me, just as Ares's had. The Lord of the Dead resembled pictures I'd seen of Adolph Hitler, or Napoleon, or the terrorist leaders who direct suicide bombers. Hades had the same intense eyes, the same kind of mesmerizing, evil charisma.

"You are brave to come here, Daughter of Poseidon," he said in an oily voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

I couldn't decide what annoyed me more. the fact that I was being accused of yet another unknown crime, or the fact that he called 'Daughter of Poseidon' instead of my name. What, was my paternal heritage the only thing that defined me or something?

I fought the urge to snap and stepped forward to give an awkward bow. I knew what I had to say. "Lord and Uncle, I come with two requests."

I saw the boys give me a puzzled look when I said I had two requests, not just one. But I _had_ to know. I just had to.

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out. The ADHD part of me wondered, off-task, whether the rest of his clothes were made the same way. What horrible things would you have to do in your life to get woven into Hades' underwear?

"Only two requests?" Hades said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet."

I swallowed. This was going about as well as I'd feared.

I glanced at the empty, smaller throne next to Hades'. It was shaped like a black flower, gilded with gold. I wished Queen Persephone were here. I recalled something in the myths about how she could calm her husband's moods. But it was summer. Of course, Persephone would be above in the world of light with her mother, the goddess of agriculture, Demeter. Her visits, not the tilt of the planet, create the seasons.

Luke cleared his throat. His finger prodded me in the back.

"Lord Hades," I said. "Where is my mother?"

"Ana, what the heck?" I heard Luke hiss. But I had already figured out that the Bolt wasn't with Hades, so I figured I'd ask my question before pissing him off.

Hades raised his eyebrows, but pulled out a black smart phone and began tapping on it. "Full name, age, dates of birth and death."

"Sally Madeline Jackson, 27, January 13th, 1974. April 15th, 2001."

He humphed and continued tapping for another moment before nodding and putting it away. "Elysium. Now, explain your actions young demigod. I'm amazed you have the audacity to come here after what you did."

I glanced back at my friends. They looked as confused as I was.

"Um ... My Lord Uncle," I said carefully. "You keep saying 'after what you've done.' What exactly have I done?"

The throne room shook with a tremor so strong, they probably felt it upstairs in Los Angeles. Debris fell from the cavern ceiling. Doors burst open all along the walls, and skeletal warriors marched in, hundreds of them, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits.

Hades bellowed, "Do you think I want war, godling?"

I wanted to say, Well, these guys don't look like peace activists. But I thought that might be a dangerous answer.

"You are the Lord of the Dead," I pointed out carefully. "A war would expand your kingdom, right?"

"A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects? Did you not see the sprawl of the Asphodel Fields?"

"I-"

"Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in this past century alone, how many subdivisions I've had to open?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Hades was on a roll now. Probably a good thing, cause I have no idea what the heck I was gonna say. Maybe sympathize about the horrors of bureaucracy?

"More security ghouls," he moaned. "Traffic problems at the judgment pavilion. Double overtime for the staff. I used to be a rich god, Ana Jackson. I control all the precious metals under the earth. But my expenses!"

"Charon wants a pay raise," I blurted, just remembering the fact. As soon as I said it, I wished I could sew up my mouth. From the looks on their faces, so did the boys.

"Don't get me started on Charon!" Hades yelled. "He's been impossible ever since he discovered Italian suits! Problems everywhere, and I've got to handle all of them personally. The commute time alone from the palace to the gates is enough to drive me insane! And the dead just keep arriving. No, godling. I need no help getting subjects! I did not ask for this war."

"But-"

"It's all lies!" More rumbling. Hades rose from his throne, towering to the height of a football goalpost. "Your father may fool Zeus, girl, but I am not so stupid. I see his plan."

"His plan?" I would like to state for the record that by this point I was completely lost as to what was going on, and genuinely concerned for Hades' mental health. Surely all of this stress wasn't good for anyone, even a god?

"You were the thief on the winter solstice," he accused. "Your father thought to keep you his little secret. He directed you into the throne room on Olympus. _You_ took the master bolt and my helm.

Had I not sent my Fury to discover you at Yancy Academy, Poseidon might have succeeded in hiding his scheme to start a war. But now you have been forced into the open. You will finally be exposed as Poseidon's thief, and I will have my helm back!"

"But ..." I tried to wrap my head around the rant he'd just directed at me. "That's not what happened. And, did you say that your helm is missing as well?"

"Do not play innocent with me, girl. You and your companions have come here to threaten me in Poseidon's name, no doubt—to bring me an ultimatum. Does Poseidon think I can be blackmailed into supporting him?"

"No!" I cried. "Poseidon didn't— _I_ didn't—"

"I have said nothing of the helm's disappearance," Hades snarled, "because I had no illusions that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I can ill afford for word to get out that my most powerful weapon of fear is missing. So I searched for you myself, and when it was clear you were coming to me to deliver your threat, I did not try to stop you."

"You didn't try to stop us? But—"

"Return my helm now, or I will stop death," Hades threatened. "That is my counterproposal. I will open the earth and have the dead pour back into the world. I will make your lands a nightmare. And you, Ana Jackson—your skeleton will lead my army out of Hades."

The skeletal soldiers all took one step forward, their weapons at the ready.

At that point, I probably should have been terrified. The strange thing was, I felt offended. Nothing gets me angrier than being accused of something I didn't do. I've had a lot of experience with that. Everyone always blames the foster kid.

"You're as bad as Zeus," I snapped, my veneer of respect gone. "You think I stole from you? That's why you sent the Furies after me?"

"Of course," Hades said.

"And the other monsters?"

Hades curled his lip. "I had nothing to do with them. I wanted no quick death for you—I wanted you brought before me alive so you might face every torture in the Fields of Punishment. Why do you think I let you enter my kingdom so easily?"

"Easily?"

"Return my property!"

"But I don't have your helm. I came for the master bolt."

"Which you already possess!" Hades shouted. "You came here with it, little fool, thinking you could you threaten me!"

"But I _didn't_!"

"Open your pack, then."

A horrible feeling struck me. The weight in my backpack, like a bowling ball. It couldn't be...

I slung it off my shoulder and unzipped it. Inside was a two-foot-long metal cylinder, spiked on both ends, humming with energy.

"Ana," Luke gasped. "How—"

"I—I don't know. I don't understand."

"You heroes are always the same," Hades said. "Your pride makes you foolish, thinking you could bring such a weapon before me. I did not ask for Zeus's master bolt, but since it is here, you will yield it to me. I am sure it will make an excellent bargaining tool. And now ... my helm. Where is it?"

I was speechless. I had no helm. I had no idea how the master bolt had gotten into my backpack. I wanted to think Hades was pulling some kind of trick. Everything would be simpler if Hades was the bad guy.

But he wasn't. I had been played with. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades had been set at each other's throats by someone else. The master bolt had been in the backpack, and I'd gotten the backpack from …

"Lord Hades, wait," I said, raising my hands in a calming gesture. "This is all a mistake." Maybe not my best phrasing.

"A mistake?" Hades roared.

The skeletons aimed their weapons. From high above, there was a fluttering of leathery wings, and the three Furies swooped down to perch on the back of their master's throne. The one with Mrs. Dodds's face grinned at me eagerly and flicked her whip. Luke gripped his sword pommel, glaring back at the army.

"There is no mistake," Hades said. "I know why you have come—I know the real reason you brought the bolt. You came to bargain for her."

Hades loosed a ball of gold fire from his palm. It exploded on the steps in front of me, and there was my mother, frozen in a halo of gold, looking the exact same as she had the day of her death.

I couldn't speak. I reached out to touch her, but the light was as hot as a bonfire.

"Yes," Hades said with satisfaction. "I have her. I knew, Ana Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my helm, and perhaps I will let her go. She has had a good afterlife so far. But if you displease me, that will quickly change."

I thought about the pearls in my pocket. Maybe they could get me out of this. If I could just get my mom free... If I could get her back as well.

"Ah, the pearls," Hades said, and my blood froze. "Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Ana Jackson."

My hand moved against my will and brought out the pearls.

"Only three," Hades said. "What a shame. You do realize each only protects a single person. Try to take your mother, then, little godling. I assure you it will work. And which of your friends will you leave behind to spend eternity with me? Go on. Choose. Or give me the backpack and accept my terms."

I looked at Luke and Grover. Their faces were grim.

"We were tricked," I told them. "Set up."

"Yes, but why?" Luke asked. "And the voice in the pit—"

"I don't know yet," I said. "But I intend to ask."

"Decide, girl!" Hades yelled.

"Ana." Grover put his hand on my shoulder. "You can't give him the bolt,"

"I know that."

"Leave me here," he said. "Use the third pearl on your mom."

"No," Luke drew his sword. "You guys go. I've had good run. Longer than most demigods. I'll go down fighting."

"The easy decision is never the right one," I answered, quoting my mother.

My _dead_ mother. She was a good person, and I knew that she wouldn't want me to sacrifice another person, a person I loved, just to have her back. If I would even get her back at all. Who's to say Hades wasn't lying about it taking her back, and he hadn't said anything about her being alive. What if she was nothing more than a ghost? All the stories of ghosts spoke of them as sad or vengeful.

I made my decision, lip wobbling as I handed a pearl to each of the boys.

The smug look on Hades' face faded. He said, "Godling ... ?" With a suspicious, worried scowl at me. I gave a quick bow.

"I'll find your helm, Uncle," I told him. "I'll return it. Remember about Charon's pay raise."

"Do not defy me—"

"And play with Cerberus once in a while. He likes red rubber balls."

"Ana Jackson, you will not—"

I shouted, "Now, guys!"

We smashed the pearls at our feet. For one terror-filled moment, nothing happened.

"Destroy them!" Hades bellowed, causing the army of skeletons to rush forward, swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged, their whips bursting into flame.

Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearl fragments at my feet exploded with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. I was encased in a milky white sphere, which was starting to float off the ground.

Luke and Grover were right behind me. Spears and bullets sparked harmlessly off the pearl bubbles as we floated up. Hades yelled with such rage, the entire fortress shook and I knew it was not going to be a peaceful night in L.A.

"Look up.'" Grover yelled. "We're going to crash!"

Sure enough, we were racing right toward the stalactites, which I figured would pop our bubbles and skewer us.

"How do you control these things?" Luke shouted.

"I don't think you do!" I shouted back.

We screamed as the bubbles slammed into the ceiling and ... Darkness.

Were we dead?

No, I could still feel the racing sensation. We were going up, right through solid rock as easily as an air bubble in water. That was the power of the pearls, I realized—What belongs to the sea will always return to the sea.

For a few moments, I couldn't see anything outside the smooth walls of my sphere, then my pearl broke through on the ocean floor. The two other milky spheres, Luke and Grover, kept pace with me as we soared upward through the water. And then with a loud splash, we exploded on the surface, in the middle of the Santa Monica Bay, knocking a surfer off his board with an indignant, "Dude!"

I grabbed Grover and hauled him over to a life buoy. Then I caught Luke and dragged him over too. A curious shark was circling us, a great white about eleven feet long.

"Beat it," I snapped, making him turn and race away. The surfer screamed something about bad mushrooms and paddled away from us as fast as he could.

Somehow, I knew what time it was: early morning, June 21, the day of the summer solstice. We had until midnight to stop World War 3.

In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighbourhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was entirely Hades' fault. He was probably sending an army of the dead after me right now.

But at the moment, the Underworld wasn't my biggest problem.

I had to get to shore. I had to get Zeus's thunderbolt back to Olympus. Most of all, I had to have a serious conversation with the god who'd tricked me.


	20. I Battle a God

**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA. Thanks for any and all reviews/follows/favs.**

 **Chapter Twenty**

**I Battle A God. Am I Suicidal? Maybe a Bit, Yeah**

A Coast Guard boat picked us up, but thankfully they were too busy to keep us for long, or to wonder how three kids in street clothes had gotten out into the middle of the bay. They probably thought our boat had capsized or something. Anyway, there was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls. They didn't have time to worry about us.

They dropped us off at the Santa Monica Pier with towels around our shoulders and water bottles that said I'M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and sped off to save more people.

Our clothes were sopping wet, even mine. When the Coast Guard boat had appeared, I'd silently prayed they wouldn't pick me out of the water and find me perfectly dry, which might've raised some eyebrows. So, I'd willed myself to get soaked. Sure enough, my usual waterproof magic had abandoned me.

Luke was barefoot, having given his shoes to Grover to cover up his hooves after his shoes disappeared somewhere in the ocean. Better the Coast Guard wonder why one of us was barefoot than wonder why one of us had hooves.

After reaching dry land, we stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. I felt as if I'd just come back from the dead—which I guess I technically had. My backpack was heavy with Zeus's master bolt. My heart was even heavier from seeing my mother. It felt like I had abandoned her, even though she'd been dead for years and I knew that I did what she would have wanted me to do.

"I don't believe it," Luke said. "We went all that way—"

"It was a trick," I interrupted him. "A strategy worthy of Athena. You get it right? You know what happened?"

"I know," he grimaced, eyes dropping to the ground. "I get it."

"Well, I don't!" Grover complained. "Would somebody—"

"Ana ..." Luke murmured, reaching out to touch my shoulder lightly. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry..."

I danced out of reach, pretending not to hear him. If I talked about my mother, I was going to start crying like a little kid.

"The prophecy was right," I said instead, dusting off my wet jeans uselessly. "'You shall go west and face the god who has turned.' But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war among the Big Three.

Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades' helm, and framed me because I'm Poseidon's kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And I'll have caused it."

Grover shook his head, mystified. "But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?"

I stopped in my tracks, staring grimly down the beach. "Gee, let me think about that for a moment."

There he was, waiting for us, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminium baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red.

"Hey, kid," Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see me. "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked me," I accused, rage welling up in my breast. " _You_ stole the helm and the master bolt."

Ares grinned. "Well, now, I didn't steal them _personally_. Gods taking each other's symbols of power, that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands."

"Who did you use? One of your kids? Clarisse was at the winter solstice, but she would never have done something like that. She's a _good_ person. I suppose that she must get it from her mother's side."

My statement seemed to amuse him. "Doesn't matter. The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at him. And Hades is still looking for this ..."

From his pocket he took out a ski cap, the kind that bank robbers wear, and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

"The helm of darkness," Grover gasped.

"Exactly," Ares said. "Now, where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."

"You fucking bastard!" I cried furiously. I had never been so pissed off in my life, both with Ares and myself. I had played right into his trap.

"But this war will tear the world apart!" Luke protested.

Ares shrugged. "Best kind of war. The bloodier the better, I always say."

"You gave me the backpack in Denver," I crossed my arms in front of my chest to keep myself from leaping at him with my bare hands. "The master bolt was in there the whole time."

"Yes and no," Ares said. "It's probably too complicated for your little mortal brain to follow, but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just morphed a bit. The bolt is connected to it, sort of like that sword you got, kid. It always returns to you, right?"

I wasn't sure how Ares knew about that, but I guess that a god of war had to make it his business to know about weapons.

"Anyway," Ares continued, "I tinkered with the magic a bit, so the bolt would only return to the sheath once you reached the Underworld. You get close to Hades... Bingo, you got mail. If you died along the way, no big loss. I still had the weapon."

"But why not just keep the master bolt for yourself?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Why send it to Hades?"

Ares got a twitch in his jaw. For a moment, it was almost as if he were listening to another voice, deep inside his head. "Why didn't I ... yeah ... with that kind of firepower ..."

He held the trance for one second ... two seconds...

I exchanged confused and nervous looks with Luke who was gripping his own sword pommel tensely.

Ares' expression cleared. "I didn't want the trouble. Better to have you caught red-handed, holding the thing."

"You're lying," I declared. "Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn't your idea, was it?"

"Of course it was!" He snarled as smoke drifted up from his sunglasses, making it seem as if they were about to catch fire.

"You didn't order the theft," I guessed. "Someone else sent a hero to steal the two items. Then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn't turn him over to Zeus. Something convinced you to let him go. You kept the items until another hero could come along and complete the delivery. That thing in the pit is ordering you around."

"I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don't have dreams!"

I hesitated at that. "Who said anything about dreams?"

Ares looked agitated, but he tried to cover it with a smirk. "Let's get back to the problem at hand, kid. You're alive. I can't have you taking that bolt to Olympus. You just might get those hard-headed idiots to listen to you. So I've got to kill you. Nothing personal."

He snapped his fingers. The sand exploded at his feet and out charged a wild boar, even larger and uglier than the one whose head hung above the door of cabin seven at Camp Half-Blood. The beast pawed the sand, glaring at me with beady eyes as it lowered its razor-sharp tusks and waited for the command to kill.

I stepped into the surf, taking strength from the ocean swirling around my feet. "Fight me yourself, Ares."

He laughed, but I heard a little edge to his laughter ... an uneasiness. "You've only got one talent, kid, running away. You ran from the Chimera. You ran from the Underworld. You don't have what it takes."

"Try me," I retorted, summoning my sword and falling into the familiar attack/defence position Luke had first taught, then drilled into my head until it was second nature.

"Ana," Luke muttered.

"Stay back," I replied softly. "I got this, I promise."

"No direct involvement," Ares drawled, the heat from his eyes melting his sunglasses. "Sorry, kid. You're not at my level."

"Ana, run!" Luke cried, just as the giant boar charged.

But I was done running from monsters. Or Hades, or Ares, or anybody. As the boar rushed me, I sidestepped and slashed upward. The boar's severed right tusk fell at my feet, while the disoriented animal charged into the sea.

"Wave!" I shouted.

Immediately, a wave surged up from nowhere and engulfed the boar, wrapping around it like a blanket. The beast squealed once in terror. Then it was gone, swallowed by the sea.

I turned back to Ares. "Are you going to fight me now?" I asked. "Or are you going to hide behind another pet?"

Ares' face was purple with rage. "Watch it, kid. I could turn you into—"

"A cockroach," I suggested scornfully. "Or a tapeworm. Yeah, I'm sure. That'd save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn't it?"

Flames danced along the top of his glasses. "Oh, man, you are really asking to be smashed into a grease spot."

"If I lose, turn me into anything you want. Take the bolt. If I win, the helm and the bolt are mine and you have to go away."

Ares sneered and swung the baseball bat off his shoulder. "How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern?"

I showed him my sword.

"That's cool, dead girl," he said. "Classic it is." The baseball bat morphed into a large, two-handed sword. It was probably the size of me with a hilt shaped like a large silver skull with a ruby in its mouth.

"Ana," Luke begged. "Don't do this. He's a god."

"He's a coward," I told him, lifting my head determinedly.

He swallowed. "Take this, at least. For luck." With that, he leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips.

"Wow," I breathed, a tiny grin playing at my lips. "That's definitely good for my luck. My adrenaline is soaring."

"And take this," Grover added. He handed me a flattened tin can that he had probably been saving in his pocket for a thousand miles. "The satyrs stand behind you."

"Grover ... I don't know what to say."

He patted me on the shoulder. I stuffed the tin can in my back pocket.

"Are you all done saying good-bye?" Ares came toward me, his black leather duster trailing behind him, his sword glinting like fire in the sunrise. "I've been fighting for eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited and I cannot die. What have you got?"

 _'A smaller ego,'_ I thought in a snarky tone of voice, but I said nothing. I kept my feet in the surf, backing into the water up to my ankles, accepting the strength it gave me.

Ares charged at me and cleaved downward at my head, but I wasn't there.

My body thought for me. The water seemed to push me into the air and I catapulted over him, slashing as I came down. But Ares was just as quick. He twisted, and the strike that should've caught him directly in the spine was deflected off the end of his sword hilt.

He grinned. "Not bad, not bad."

He slashed again and I was forced to jump onto dry land. I tried to sidestep, to get back to the water, but Ares seemed to know what I wanted. He out-maneuvered me, pressing so hard I had to put all my concentration on not getting sliced into pieces. I kept backing away from the surf. I couldn't find any openings to attack. His sword had a reach several feet longer than Anaklusmos.

 _'Get in close,'_ Luke had told me once, back in our sword class. _'When you've got the shorter blade, get in close.'_

I stepped inside with a thrust, but Ares was waiting for that. He knocked my blade out of my hands and kicked me in the chest. I recognized the feeling of my ribs breaking, at least four of them, as I went airborne. I flew twenty, maybe thirty feet. I would have broken my back if I hadn't crashed into the soft sand of a dune.

"Ana!" Luke yelled in warning. "Cops!"

I was seeing double. My chest felt like it had just been hit with a battering ram, but I managed to get to my feet.

I couldn't look away from Ares for fear he'd slice me in half, but out of the corner of my eye I saw red lights flashing on the shoreline boulevard. Car doors were slamming.

"There, officer!" somebody yelled. "See?"

A gruff cop voice: "Is that kid? ... what the heck ..."

"That guy's armed," another cop said. "Call for backup."

I rolled to one side as Ares' blade slashed the sand. I lunged desperately for my sword, scooped it up, and launched a swipe at Ares' face, only for my blade to be deflected again.

Ares seemed to know exactly what I was going to do the moment before I did it. Damn him to Tartarus for being a god. It's official, I loathe them all with everything in me. Except for Hestia, but she's definitely the exception that proves the rule, rather than the other way around.

I stepped back toward the surf, forcing him to follow.

"Admit it, kid," Ares smirked. "You got no hope. I'm just toying with you."

My senses were working overtime. I now understood what the others had told me about ADHD keeping you alive in battle. I was wide awake, noticing every little detail.

I could see where Ares was tensing. I could tell which way he would strike. At the same time, I was aware of Luke and Grover, thirty feet to my left. I saw a second cop car pulling up, siren wailing.

Spectators, people who had been wandering the streets because of the earthquake, were starting to gather. Among the crowd, I thought I saw a few who were walking with the strange, trotting gait of disguised satyrs. There were shimmering forms of spirits, too, as if the dead had risen from Hades to watch the battle. I heard the flap of leathery wings circling somewhere above. And more sirens of course.

I stepped farther into the water, but Ares was _fast_. The tip of his blade ripped my sleeve and grazed my forearm.

A police voice on a megaphone said, "Drop the guns.' Set them on the ground. Now!"

What guns?

When I next looked at Ares's weapon, it seemed to be flickering; sometimes it looked like a shotgun, sometimes the true form of a sword. I didn't know what the humans were seeing in my hands, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't make them like me.

Ares turned to glare at our spectators, which gave me a moment to breathe. There were five police cars now, and a line of officers crouching behind them, pistols trained on us.

"This is a private matter!" Ares bellowed. "Be gone."

He swept his hand, and a wall of red flame rolled across the patrol cars. The police barely had time to dive for cover before their vehicles exploded. The crowd behind them scattered, screaming.

"You son of a bitch," I hissed at him.

Ares roared with laughter, his sides shaking. "Now, little heroine it's time to add _you_ to this barbecue."

He slashed. I somehow managed to deflect his blade. Then I got close enough to strike and tried to fake him out with a feint, but my blow was knocked aside. The waves were hitting me in the back now. Ares was up to his thighs, wading in after me.

I felt the comforting rhythm of the sea, the waves growing larger as the tide rolled in, and suddenly I had an idea. _'Little waves,'_ I thought. And the water behind me seemed to recede. I was holding back the tide by sheer force of will, but tension was building, like carbonation behind a cork. And it was _hard._ I wouldn't be able to hold this for long.

Ares came toward, grinning confidently, as if he had already won the battle. I lowered my blade, as if I were too exhausted to go on. I wasn't _quite_ done yet though.

 _'Wait for it,'_ I instructed the sea. The pressure now was almost lifting me off my feet, I was going through a cycle of getting worn out and being reinvigorated again. Ares raised his sword. That was when I released the tide and jumped, rocketing straight over Ares on a wave.

A six-foot wall of water smashed him full in the face, leaving him cursing and sputtering with a mouth full of seaweed. I landed behind him with a splash and feinted toward his head, as I'd done before. He turned in time to raise his sword, but this time he was too disoriented, and he didn't anticipate the trick. I changed direction, lunged to the side, and stabbed Riptide straight down into the water, sending the point through the god's heel.

The roar that followed the wound made Hades' earthquake look like a minor event. The very sea was blasted back from Ares, leaving a wet circle of sand fifty feet wide.

Ichor, the golden blood of the gods, flowed from a gash in the war god's boot. The expression on his face was beyond hatred. It was pain, shock, complete disbelief that he'd been wounded. I felt a surge of incredulousness that he was reacting so melodramatically to such a tiny wound. I had most of my ribs broken, risking a lung puncture and I was still fighting. I hadn't even 'umphed'. Ares would never make it as a demigod.

He limped toward me, muttering ancient Greek curses.

Something stopped him.

It was as if a cloud covered the sun, but worse. Light faded. Sound and colour drained away. A cold, heavy presence passed over the beach, slowing time, dropping the temperature to freezing, and making me feel like life was hopeless, fighting was useless. I hadn't felt like this in years, not since Mom's death.

Then, thank Olympus, the horrible darkness lifted.

Ares looked stunned.

Police cars were burning behind us. The crowd of spectators had fled. Luke and Grover stood on the beach in shock, watching the water flood back around Ares's feet, his glowing golden ichor dissipating in the tide.

Ares lowered his sword.

"You have made an enemy, godling," he warned me. "You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Anaea Jackson. Beware."

His body began to glow.

''Ana!" Luke shouted. "Don't watch!"

I turned away as the god Ares revealed his true immortal form. I somehow knew that if I looked, I would disintegrate into ashes. After what seemed like an eternity, the light died.

When I looked back Ares was gone. The tide rolled out to reveal Hades' bronze helm of darkness. I picked it up and walked toward my friends.

But before I got there, I heard the flapping of leathery wings. The three Furies with lace hats and fiery whips drifted down from the sky and landed in front of me.

The middle Fury, the one who had been Mrs. Dodds, stepped forward. Her fangs were bared, but for once she didn't look threatening. She looked more disappointed, as if she'd been planning to have me for supper, but had decided I might give her indigestion.

"We saw the whole thing," she hissed. "So ... it truly was not you?"

I tossed her the helmet roughly, which she caught in surprise.

"Return that to Lord Hades," I instructed her curtly. "Tell him the truth. Tell him to call off the war."

She hesitated, then ran a forked tongue over her green, leathery lips. "Live well, Ana Jackson. Become a true hero. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again ..."

She cackled, savouring the idea. Then she and her sisters rose on their bats' wings, fluttered into the smoke-filled sky, and disappeared.

I joined Grover and Luke, who were staring at me in amazement.

"Ana ..." Grover said. "That was so incredibly ..."

"Terrifying," said Luke.

"Cool!" Grover corrected.

I didn't feel terrified. I certainly didn't feel cool. I was tired and sore and completely drained of energy. I could barely breathe from the pressure on my broken ribs.

"Did you guys feel that... whatever it was?" I asked.

They both nodded uneasily.

"Must've been the Furies overhead," Grover said hopefully.

But I wasn't so sure. Something had stopped Ares from killing me, and whatever could do that was a lot stronger than the Furies.

I looked at Luke, and an understanding passed between us. I knew now what was in that pit, what had spoken from the entrance of Tartarus.

I reclaimed the damn backpack from Grover and looked inside. The master bolt was still there. Such a small thing to almost cause World War III.

"We have to get back to New York," I said heavily. "By tonight."

"That's impossible," Luke protested, "Unless we—"

"Fly," I finished glumly. Have I ever mentioned just how much I hate my life? In case I haven't, let me do so right now. I really, _really_ hate my life.

He stared flatly at me. "Fly, like, in an airplane, which you were warned never to do lest Zeus strike you out of the sky, and carrying a weapon that has more destructive power than a nuclear bomb?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Pretty much exactly like that. Come on, let's go die a fiery, hopefully quick, death."


	21. I Meet More Gods

**I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA.**

 **Chapter Twenty-One**

**I Meet Yet More Gods. I Really Hope That They're the Last of It**

I guess it's kinda funny, in a bitter way, how humans can wrap their mind around things and fit them into their version of reality. Chiron had told me that a while ago. But I didn't really appreciate his wisdom until right now.

According to the L.A. news, the explosion at the Santa Monica beach had been caused when a crazy kidnapper fired a shotgun at a police car. He accidentally hit a gas main that had ruptured during the earthquake.

This crazy kidnapper (a.k.a. Ares) was the same man who had abducted me and two other adolescents in New York and brought us across country on a ten-day odyssey of terror.

The crazy man had caused the explosion in the St. Louis Arch, while we were trying to escape from him. It made sense, after all, no kid could've done that. A concerned waitress in Denver had apparently seen the man threatening his abductees outside her diner, gotten a friend to take a photo, and notified the police. Finally, brave Ana Jackson (I was kind of getting to like this kid, even if she's complete fiction) had stolen a gun from her captor in Los Angeles and battled him shotgun-to-rifle on the beach. Police had arrived just in time. But in the spectacular explosion, five police cars had been destroyed and the captor had fled. No fatalities had occurred. Ana Jackson and her two friends were safely in police custody.

The reporters fed us this whole story. We just nodded and acted tearful and exhausted (which wasn't hard), and played victimized kids for the cameras.

Luke, utilizing the brilliant acting skills every child of Hermes had, somehow convinced the police that putting the three of us on a plane home straight away, without visiting a hospital or anything, was a good idea. In fact the police and reporters were so moved by his sob-story that they passed around the hat and raised money for three tickets on the next plane to New York.

I knew there was no choice but to fly. Nothing else would get us there in time so I hoped Zeus would cut me some slack, considering the circumstances. But it was still hard to force myself on board the flight. I gripped the backpack holding the Master Bolt like it was a life-raft as I shuffled onboard the plane.

Take-off was a complete nightmare. Every spot of turbulence felt scarier than a Greek monster. I didn't unclench my hands from the armrests until we touched down safely at La Guardia and I spent the entire time muttering prayers to every deity I could think of, including several non-Greek ones, just in case. The boys copied my example, praying to the gods for mercy in the seats on either side of me.

When we finally landed, only the time constraints we were under kept me from _actually_ kneeling down and kissing the ground.

The local press was waiting for us outside security, but we managed to evade them thanks to Luke, who lured them away by shouting, "They're over by the frozen yogurt! Come on!" from behind a pillar, before he re-joined us at baggage claim.

We split up at the taxi stand. I told the boys to get back to Half-Blood Hill and let Chiron know what had happened. They protested, and it was hard to let them go after all we'd been through, but I knew I had to do this last part of the quest by myself. If things went wrong, if the gods didn't believe me ... I wanted my boys to survive and tell Chiron the truth.

Then, after one last deep breath to steel my trembling nerves, I hopped in a taxi and headed into Manhattan.

Thirty minutes later, I walked into the lobby of the Empire State Building. I must have looked like a homeless kid, with my tattered clothes and my scraped-up face. I hadn't slept in at least twenty-four hours and I smelt awful, I'm sure.

Wearing a (completely fake) look of confidence, I went up to the guard at the front desk and said, "Six hundredth floor." The face of watch warned me that I had less than an hour to spare to return the Bolt to Zeus.

He was reading a huge book with a picture of a wizard on the front. I wasn't much into fantasy, but the book must've been good, because the guard took a while to look up. "No such floor, kiddo."

"I need an audience with Zeus."

He gave me a vacant smile. "Sorry?"

"You heard me," I replied, plastering on my mask of defiant determination. This was definitely a lot more stressful than defending myself against an angry social worker, but it was still a bit of a comfort despite that.

"No appointment, no audience, kiddo," he frowned at me. "Lord Zeus doesn't see anyone unannounced."

"Oh, I think he'll make an exception," I chuckled darkly as I slipped off my backpack and unzipped the top to let him see inside.

The guard looked inside at the metal cylinder, not getting what it was for a few seconds. Then his face went pale. "That isn't..."

"Yes, it is," I promised with a devilish smirk. "Maybe you want me take it out and—"

"No! No!" He scrambled out of his seat, fumbled around his desk for a key card, then handed it to me. "Insert this in the security slot. Make sure nobody else is in the elevator with you."

I did as he told me. As soon as the elevator doors closed, I slipped the key into the slot. The card disappeared and a new button appeared on the console, a red one that said 600.

I pressed it and waited, and waited. Muzak played. "Raindrops keep falling on my head..."

I'm not sure was worse, the awful music or the nervous anticipation I felt at all of this finally being over and one with. One way or another.

Finally, there was a loud ding and the doors slid open. I stepped out and almost had a heart attack.

I was standing on a narrow stone walkway in the middle of the air. Below me was Manhattan, from the height of an airplane. In front of me, white marble steps wound up the spine of a cloud, into the sky. The height made me dizzy with fear. My eyes followed the stairway to its end, where my brain just could not accept what I saw.

' _Look again,'_ my brain said. _'We_ _ **are**_ _looking,'_ my eyes insisted. _'It's_ _ **really**_ _there.'_

From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summit covered with snow. Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multileveled palaces—a city of mansions—all with white-columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires. Roads wound crazily up to the peak, where the largest palace gleamed against the snow. Precariously perched gardens bloomed with olive trees and rosebushes. I could make out an open-air market filled with colourful tents, a stone amphitheatre built on one side of the mountain, a hippodrome and a coliseum on the other. It was an Ancient Greek city, except it wasn't in ruins.

It was new, and clean, and colourful, the way Athens must've looked twenty-five hundred years ago except more, something. Just _more_. Nothing made by mortals could ever compare to any of this. It just wasn't possible.

' _This place can't be here,'_ I told myself. ' _The tip of a mountain hanging over New York City like a billion-ton asteroid? How could something like that be anchored above the Empire State Building, in plain sight of millions of people, and not get noticed?'_

But here it was, hidden by the Mist and whichever god controlled it. And here I was.

I don't really remember my trip. It was mostly a daze of images and numbness, like I'd passed my ability to feel anything.

I passed some giggling wood nymphs who threw olives at me from their garden. Hawkers in the market offered to sell me ambrosia-on-a-stick, and a new shield, and a genuine glitter-weave replica of the Golden Fleece, as seen on Hephaestus-TV. The nine muses were tuning their instruments for a concert in the park while a small crowd gathered—satyrs and naiads and a bunch of good-looking teenagers who might've been minor gods and goddesses. Nobody seemed worried about an impending civil war. In fact, everybody seemed in a festive mood. Several of them turned to watch me pass, and whispered to themselves.

I climbed the main road, toward the big palace at the peak. It was a reverse copy of the palace in the Underworld.

There, everything had been black and bronze. Here, everything glittered white and silver. I realized Hades must've built his palace to resemble this one. He wasn't welcomed in Olympus except on the winter solstice, so he'd built his own Olympus underground. Despite my bad experience with him, I felt a little sorry for the guy. To be banished from this place seemed really unfair. It would make anybody bitter.

Steps led up to a central courtyard. When I went past that, I arrived at the throne room.

Room really isn't the right word. The place made Grand Central Station look like a broom closet. Massive columns rose to a domed ceiling, which was gilded with moving constellations.

Twelve thrones, built for beings the size of Hades, were arranged in an inverted U, just like the cabins at Camp Half-Blood. An enormous fire crackled in the central hearth pit. The thrones were empty except for two at the end: the head throne on the right, and the one to its immediate left. I didn't have to be told who the two gods were that were sitting there, waiting for me to approach.

I headed toward them nervously, my legs trembling. I wanted very much to get sick, but I wanted to show my fear even less, so I blanked my face and swallowed the bile back down instead.

The gods were in giant human form, as Hades had been, but I could barely look at them without feeling a tingle, as if my body were starting to burn. Zeus, the Lord of the Gods, wore a dark blue pinstriped suit. He sat on a simple throne of solid platinum. He had a well-trimmed beard, grey marble and black mixed together in it like a storm cloud. His face was proud and handsome and grim, his eyes rainy grey. As I got nearer to him, the air crackled and smelled of ozone.

The god sitting next to him was his brother, without a doubt, but he was dressed very differently. He reminded me of a beachcomber from Key West. He wore leather sandals, khaki Bermuda shorts, and a Tommy Bahama shirt with coconuts and parrots all over it. His skin was deeply tanned, his hands scarred like an old-time fisherman's. His hair was black and his face had that same brooding look I had that always got me branded a rebel. But his eyes, sea-green like mine, were surrounded by sun-crinkles that told me he smiled a lot, too.

My mother had often told me that I looked like my father, but save for a few things, I didn't really see the resemblance. It was a bit of a relief to be honest. Less of a reason to be known forever as 'Poseidon's daughter.'

His throne was a deep-sea fisherman's chair. It was the simple swivelling kind, with a black leather seat and a built-in holster for a fishing pole. Instead of a pole, the holster held a bronze trident, flickering with green light around the tips.

The gods weren't moving or speaking, but there was tension in the air, as if they'd just finished an argument.

I wondered briefly what the protocol was for this, if I was supposed to greet my father or Zeus first, and then I just gave a generic bow in their mutual directions, muttering a tense "My Lords."

I dared not look up. My heart was racing. I could feel the energy emanating from the two gods. If I said the wrong thing, I had no doubt they could blast me into dust. It would solve a lot of their problems too.

"Welcome Daughter," my father spoke first. His voice stirred my oldest memories: that warm glow I remembered as a baby, the sensation of this god's hand on my forehead. I had always assumed it was a dream or something, but maybe not. I shook my thoughts away as his words made Zeus' expression darken. I swallowed nervously.

"You still claim her then?" Zeus asked menacingly. "You claim this child whom you sired against our sacred oath?"

"I have admitted my wrongdoing," Poseidon said. "Now I would hear her speak."

Woah. Nothing like hearing a parent call you a wrongdoing on the most stressful day of your life. For the millionth time I wished my mother was still alive. I had been everything to her, not an inconvenient mistake. Or a convenient one, I suppose, seeing as Poseidon wouldn't have had anyone to get the Bolt for him. I kept my face fixed on the floor and bit my lip to keep my feelings from showing.

"I have spared her once already," Zeus grumbled. "Daring to fly through my domain ... pah! I should have blasted her out of the sky for her impudence."

"And risk destroying your own master bolt?" Poseidon asked calmly. "Let us hear her out, brother."

Zeus grumbled some more. "I shall listen," he decided. "Then I shall make up my mind whether or not to cast this girl down from Olympus."

"Anaea," Poseidon said. "Look at me."

I did, and I wasn't sure what I saw in his face. There was no clear sign of love or approval. Nothing to encourage me. It was like looking at the ocean: some days, you could tell what mood it was in. Most days, though, it was unreadable, mysterious.

I got the feeling Poseidon really didn't know what to think of me. He didn't know whether he was happy to have me as a child or not. In a strange way, I was glad that Poseidon was so distant. If he'd tried to apologize, or told me he loved me, or even smiled, it would've felt fake. Like a human dad, making some lame excuse for not being around.

I had never wanted a father, and he didn't want a daughter. Good, hopefully we could just ignore each other after this then.

"Address Lord Zeus, girl," Poseidon told me. "Tell him your story."

So I told Zeus everything, just as it had happened. I took out the metal cylinder, which began sparking in the Sky God's presence, and laid it at his feet.

There was a long silence, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire.

Zeus opened his palm. The lightning bolt flew into it. As he closed his fist, the metallic points flared with electricity, until he was holding what looked more like the classic thunderbolt, a twenty-foot javelin of arcing, hissing energy that made the hairs on my scalp rise. I shuddered and the hair on my arms stood on end from the static in the air.

"I sense the girl tells the truth," Zeus muttered. "But that Ares would do such a thing ... it is most unlike him."

"He is proud and impulsive," Poseidon said. "It runs in the family."

"Lord?" I interrupted carefully, shifting and wishing I was anywhere other here. Anywhere except the Underworld at least.

"Yes?" They both said in unison.

"Ares didn't act alone. It was someone else, some _thing_ else, that came up with the idea."

I described my dreams, and the feeling I'd had on the beach, that momentary breath of evil that had seemed to stop the world, and made Ares back off from killing me.

"In the dreams," I said, "the voice told me to bring the bolt to the Underworld. Ares hinted that he'd been having dreams, too. I think he was being used, just as I was, to start a war."

"You are accusing Hades, after all?" Zeus asked. But something in his gaze made me suspect that he knew that wasn't what I was getting at.

"No," I denied, shaking my head. "I mean, Lord Zeus, I've been in the presence of Hades. This feeling on the beach was different. It was the same thing I felt when I got close to that pit. That was the entrance to Tartarus, wasn't it? Something powerful and evil is stirring down there ... something even older than the gods." I didn't dare to say the name aloud, even here on Olympus.

Poseidon and Zeus looked at each other. They had a quick, intense discussion in Ancient Greek. I only caught one word. _**Father**_.

Poseidon made some kind of suggestion, but Zeus cut him off. Poseidon tried to argue. Zeus held up his hand angrily. "We will speak of this no more," Zeus declared imperiously. "I must go personally to purify this thunderbolt in the waters of Lemnos, to remove the human taint from its metal."

' _Geez, your welcome,'_ I thought in an odd mix of disgruntled relief.

He rose and looked at me. His expression softened just a fraction of a degree. "You have done me a service, girl. Few heroes could have accomplished as much."

"I had help, sir," I answered warily. "Grover Underwood and Luke Castellan—"

"To show you my thanks, I shall spare your life. I do not trust you, Anaea Jackson. I do not like what your arrival means for the future of Olympus. But for the sake of peace in the family, I shall let you live."

"Um ... thank you, sir."

"Do not presume to fly again. Do not let me find you here when I return. Otherwise you shall taste this bolt. And it shall be your last sensation." A second later, thunder shook the palace. With a blinding flash of lightning, Zeus was gone.

Then I was alone in the throne room with my father. Not exactly my idea of an ideal situation, but at least Zeus was gone and I was alive.

"Your uncle," Poseidon sighed, "has always had a flair for dramatic exits. I think he would've done well as the god of theatre."

There was an uncomfortable silence as I gathered the remnants of my courage to speak.

"Sir," I asked tentatively, "what was in that pit?"

Poseidon regarded me. "Have you not guessed?"

I looked down, as if I could see through layers of floor and air and ground, all the way down to the Pit of Monsters itself. "Kronos," I whispered. "The king of the Titans."

Even in the throne room of Olympus, far above Tartarus, the name Kronos darkened the room and made the hearth fire seem not less warm on my back.

Poseidon gripped his trident. "In the First War, Ana, Zeus cut our father Kronos into a thousand pieces, just as Kronos had done to his own father, Ouranos. Zeus cast Kronos's remains into the darkest pit of Tartarus. The Titan army was scattered, their mountain fortress on Etna destroyed, their monstrous allies driven to the farthest corners of the earth. And yet Titans cannot die, any more than we gods can. Whatever is left of Kronos is still alive in some hideous way, still conscious in his eternal pain, still hungering for power."

"He's healing," I said grimly and matter-of-factly. "He's coming back."

Poseidon shook his head. "From time to time, over the eons, Kronos has stirred. He enters men's nightmares and breathes evil thoughts. He wakens restless monsters from the depths. But to suggest that he could rise from the pit is another thing."

"That's what he intends, My Lord. That's what he said."

Poseidon was silent for a long time.

"Lord Zeus has closed discussion on this matter. He will not allow talk of Kronos. You have completed your quest, child. That is all you need to do."

"But—" I stopped myself. Arguing would do no good. It would very possibly anger him. "As ... as you wish, Sir."

A faint smile played on his lips. "Obedience does not come naturally to you, does it?"

"No ... sir," I answered carefully, but truthfully.

I had only ever willingly and quietly obeyed Chiron, and that was different. Chiron cared about me and every demigod. I trusted Chiron to make decisions for me and not abuse that trust. I didn't feel that way toward anyone else in authority, now that Mom was gone forever.

"I must take some blame for that, I suppose. The sea does not like to be restrained." He rose to his full height and took up his trident. Then he shimmered and became the size of a regular man, standing directly in front of me. "You must go, child. But first, I want you to know something."

"Uhm, okay."

"Your mother was a queen among women," Poseidon said wistfully. "I had not met such a mortal woman in a thousand years. Her loss is one I sincerely mourned, but she would have been proud of your decision not to try and revive her.

Still ... I am sorry that you were born, child. I have brought you a hero's fate, and a hero's fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic."

I tried not to feel hurt. Here was my own dad, telling me he was sorry I'd been born. No matter my ambivalent feelings towards him, that still stung. "I don't mind, Sir."

"Not yet, perhaps," he said. "Not yet. But it was an unforgivable mistake on my part."

"I'll leave you then." I bowed awkwardly. "Thank you, I suppose." He had both claimed and spoken to me, after all, which was thrice more than most got.

I was five steps away when he called, "Anaea," making me turn.

There was a different light in his eyes, a fiery kind of pride. "You did well, Anaea. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are _mine._ You are a true Child of the Sea God."

I nodded, and left as quick as I could.

As I walked back through the city of the gods, conversations stopped. The muses paused their concert. People and satyrs and naiads all turned toward me, their faces filled with respect and gratitude, and as I passed, they knelt, as if I were some kind of hero, and not the possible future destroyer of the world.

* * *

An hour of a taxi ride later, I was scrambling down Half-Blood Hill again. I sped up with each step, anxious to return home. Ringed around the base of the hill, waiting anxiously for me, were my boys, and all my other friends.

At the sight of me, a cheer went up, and I slammed into the group. Entangled in a huge group hug, with everyone exclaiming their relief that I hadn't died, and congratulating me on my success, I realized that I felt as if I belonged, for probably the first time in my life.


	22. The Prophecy's Completion

**I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA.**

 **Chapter Twenty-Two**

**The Prophecy's Ending, and It's Beginning**

We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke's own quest, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest. According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honour, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Luke's shroud was metallic white and emerald green, with a pair of winged sneakers on the front. It gave off a weird snakeish scent while it burned.

Being the daughter of Poseidon, I didn't have any cabin mates, so my friends had all volunteered work together to make my shroud. It was absolutely beautiful, made of long sea green silk and embroidered with a silver trident. The only thing about it that I disliked was the lace edging Silena had insisted on it having. She cried in dismay when we burned it, though for the rest of us it was fun to burn them, in a very morbid kind of way. Like I was sticking up my finger at everyone who thought I would fail in quest, including myself.

As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out smores, I was surrounded by my all my friends and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past."

Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brat didn't get herself killed and now she'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday..."

I moved back into cabin three, but it didn't feel lonely anymore. I had my friends to hang with during the day, and Luke regularly snuck into my room to sleep in my bed with me. Though, I would be shocked if Chiron _didn't_ know what we were doing. For the first time since my mother died, I was genuinely happy with my life and what was happening in it.

I spoke with Chiron, and agreed to stay year-round, but I would have permission to go on little trips outside. Apparently, it was an allowance given to children of Poseidon, as otherwise we tended to go stir-crazy and run away after destroying something. So, while I would live mostly at camp and get my schooling there, I would be able to leave and visit Montauk or wherever whenever I felt the walls begin to press in.

As much as I love Camp, it was still a huge relief to have that safety net available. I don't think I could cope with being in one place constantly, even this place.

On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles.

According to Luke, who'd seen the show several times before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colours.

As Luke and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his Rasta cap all the time to pass as human.

"I'm off," he said, shifting slightly. "I just came to say ... well, you know."

I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend.

I gave him a tight hug and reminded him to keep his fake feet on, thinking of how they had fallen off on the train while Luke asked him where he was going to search first.

"Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan ..."

"We understand," I assured him. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?"

"Yeah."

"And you remembered your reed pipes?" I pressed.

"Jeez, Ana," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat."

But he didn't really sound annoyed.

He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway—nothing like the little runty boy I used to defend from bullies at Yancy Academy.

"Well," he said with a small smile. "Wish me luck."

I gave him a tight hug. He and Luke clapped each other on the shoulders, then headed back through the dunes. I watched him go through misty eyes.

Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington crossing the Delaware.

"Hey, Grover," I called.

He turned at the edge of the woods.

"Wherever you're going, I hope they make good enchiladas."

Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him.

"We'll see him again," Luke told me, pulling me into a side hug as my tears finally spilled over.

I tried to believe it. The fact that no searcher had ever come back in two thousand years ... well, I decided not to think about that. Grover would be the first. He had to be.

The summer passed.

I spent my days devising new strategies for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares' hands. Clarisse and I started a friendly, but vicious, rivalry over it. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava.

From time to time, I'd walk past the Big House, glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle. I tried to convince myself that its prophecy had come to completion.

 _You shall go west, and face the god who has turned._

Been there, done that, got the tshirt, even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades.

 _You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned._

Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades' dark head.

 _You shall be betrayed by one who a friend calls a friend._

That line still bothered me. Ares had pretended to be our friend, then betrayed me. That must have been what the Oracle meant even though it didn't quite fit...

And the last one.

 _And war will begin in the end._

Surely it meant my fight with Ares? I wasn't arrogant enough to claim it was anything close to a war, but I couldn't think of another option. The quest was over, so the prophecy should be complete. And Chiron had said that the Oracle's words often didn't make sense anyway.

The last night of the summer session came all too quickly.

The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counsellors awarded the end-of-summer beads.

I got my own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer, I was glad the firelight covered my blushing. The design was a simple pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the centre.

"The choice was unanimous," Luke announced, grinning at me cheekily. "This bead commemorates the first Daughter of the Sea God, and the quest that she undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!"

The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year.

* * *

The next morning, I went to do some training and get myself out of the way while everyone was packing themselves into the camp shuttle. Of my friends, Luke, Silena, Beckendorf and the Stolls were all staying. Beckendorf's mother was dead, Silena only visited her father rarely for a reason she didn't share and I didn't push for, though she obviously adored him, and the Stolls' mother was a heavily devout Christian who kicked them out for 'converting to paganism'.

I had said goodbye to the others last night, and I didn't want to do so again and get upset at them leaving. Especially as my mind had continuously wandered to the fact that if Mom were still alive, I'd be leaving right now as well.

Instead I lost myself in the rhythm of practice. Sword-fighting seemed as natural as breathing to me, and by the time a throat clearing itself interrupted me, I had decimated the training dummies completely. At least they'd be replaced in a few days anyway.

The person standing at the entrance to arena shocked me.

"Annabeth," I stated in surprise, sweeping some loose hair out of my face and behind my ear again. "What-uh, did you want to do some training or something? I can go."

"No," she shook her head, stepping closer to me. "I actually wanted to talk to you. Bury the hatchet, you know? For Luke's sake."

That completely shocked me, but I was willing to go along with it if she was serious. I'd seen the unhappiness Luke felt at how Annabeth and I seemed to be constantly at odds with each other. Though I had nothing to do with it, and everyone knew I just defended myself in whatever way was necessary.

"Sure," I agreed slowly. "Here, or-?"

She shook her head, gold curls bouncing. "No, here's not really the place for heart-to-hearts, you know? Follow me, I know a good place to talk."

I turned my sword back into its' hairpin form and trailed after her as we made our way to the creek and sat down near where I was almost mauled by that hellhound.

"You okay?" Annabeth asked with a look of innocence that was definitely fake on her face. Her eyes were too wide, and I suddenly wished that I could get my sword out more subtly. My instincts were screaming at me, and suddenly it just clicked.

 _You shall be betrayed by one who a friend calls a friend._ The thief hadn't been found, only Ares and the Crooked Lord. And now I knew why the prophecy had been bothering me so much despite the quest being officially over. It wouldn't really be over until the thief was caught.

"You're the one who took the Bolt," I accused quietly. "Aren't you?"

She laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "Well, well, maybe you're not such a seaweed brain after all. Yes, I took the stupid Bolt." Her expression twisted bitterly as she spoke. She didn't look at all like a twelve-year-old girl, and from the look in her eyes I had no doubt that she wanted to kill me.

"I saw a lot out there in the world, Ana," she said. "I ran away from my idiotic father and his wife and kids when I was seven and I saw the reality of the world. Didn't you feel it, the darkness gathering, the monsters growing stronger? Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics, being pawns of the gods. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us half-bloods."

"You're insane," I scoffed back. "In case you haven't realized, without gods, there would be no _demi_ gods. It's in the damn word! We need each other!"

She glared, and I could tell that hadn't occurred to her before. Stupid, especially of a supposed child of the wisdom goddess, but I guess that wisdom and common sense don't necessarily go hand-in-hand.

She clicked her fingers instead of answering. A small fire burned a hole in the ground at my feet. Out crawled something glistening black, about the size of my hand. A scorpion.

I started to go for my pin.

"I wouldn't," Annabeth warned me with a cruel smile. "Pit scorpions can jump up to fifteen feet. Its' stinger can pierce right through your clothes. You'll be dead in sixty seconds."

"You're as crazy as Ares."

Her eyes flared violently. "Ares is a fool. He never realized the true master he was serving. If I had time, Ana, I could explain. But I'm afraid you won't live that long."

The scorpion crawled onto my pants leg.

There had to be a way out of this. I needed time to think.

"Kronos," I stated. "That's who you serve."

The air got colder.

"You should be more careful with names," Annabeth warned me.

"Kronos got you to steal the master bolt and the helm. He spoke to you in your dreams."

Annabeth's eye twitched. "He spoke to you, too, Ana. You should have listened to him. You might have survived."

"He's brainwashing you, Annabeth. You'd think a child of the wisdom goddess would be able to see that."

"You're wrong!" Annabeth shrieked. "He showed me that my talents are being wasted. I've been here for years, since I was seven! I'm better at fighting and thinking than anyone else in this worthless camp, and yet I've never been allowed to leave except to visit my useless mortal father! It's not fair! I should've been given a quest! I'm better than all of them!"

"You're a spoiled child throwing a temper tantrum," I spat back, furious. "And you're going to break Luke's heart!"

"Don't talk to me about Luke!" she snarled. "Do you know how he got that scar on his face? Hermes sent him to steal apples from the Garden of Hesperides, a quest that's been done already! Where's the glory in repeating what others have done? All the gods know how to do is replay their past. His heart wasn't in it. The dragon in the garden nearly killed him, and I knew I had to get justice for him and Thalia. They deserved better than what the gods gave them, the only truly good people in this world. Even Chiron is so blinded by the gods that there's no hope for him. He'd let us all die if they ordered it. He doesn't really care, he just pretends that he does.

I wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone right then, but I bided my time. I began to dream of Kronos. He convinced me to strike a worthwhile strike against the gods, to take something that no hero had ever had the courage to take.

When we went on that winter-solstice field trip, while the other campers were asleep, I put on my cap and I snuck into the throne room and took Zeus' master bolt right from his chair. Hades' helm of darkness, too. You wouldn't believe how easy it was, and I'm not even one of Hermes' children. The Olympians are so arrogant; they never dreamed someone would dare steal from them. Their security is horrible. I was halfway across New Jersey before I heard the storms rumbling, and I knew they'd discovered my theft."

The scorpion was sitting on my knee now, staring at me with its glittering eyes. I tried to keep my voice level, and to keep my worry hidden. "So why didn't you bring the items to Kronos?"

Annabeth's smile wavered. "I ... I got overconfident. Zeus sent out his sons and daughters to find the stolen bolt, Artemis, Apollo, Hermes. But it was Ares who caught me. I could have out-witted him, but I wasn't careful enough. He disarmed me, took the items of power, threatened to return them to Olympus and burn me alive.

Then Kronos' voice came to me and told me what to say. I put the idea in Ares's head about a great war between the gods. I said all he had to do was hide the items away for a while and watch the others fight. Ares got a wicked gleam in his eyes. I knew he was hooked. He let me go, and I returned to Olympus before anyone noticed my absence.

Afterward, the Lord of the Titans ... h-he punished me with nightmares. I swore not to fail again. Back at Camp Half-Blood, in my dreams, I was told that a second hero would arrive, one who could be tricked into taking the bolt and the helm the rest of the way, from Ares down to Tartarus."

"You summoned the hellhound, that night in the forest."

"We had to make Chiron think the camp wasn't safe for you, so he would start you on your quest. We had to confirm his fears that Hades was after you. And it worked."

"The backpack was cursed," I said. "It was supposed to drag me and the backpack into Tartarus."

"And it would have, if you'd been wearing it. But you gave it to Luke, which screwed everything up. Luke was never supposed to get hurt."

Annabeth looked down at the scorpion, which was now sitting on my thigh. "You should have died in Tartarus, Ana. But don't worry, I'll leave you with my little friend to set things right."

"Thalia gave her life to save you," I said, gritting my teeth. "And this is how you repay her?"

"Don't talk about Thalia!" she shrieked. "The gods let her die! That's one of the many things they will pay for."

"You're being used, Annabeth. You and Ares both. Don't listen to Kronos."

" _I've_ been used?" Annabeth's voice turned shrill. "Look at yourself. What has your dad ever done for you? Kronos will rise. You've only delayed his plans. He will cast the Olympians into Tartarus and drive humanity back to their caves. All except the strongest, the ones who serve him."

"Call off the bug," I demanded. "If you're so strong, fight me yourself."

Annabeth smiled, a light of insanity in her grey orbs. "Nice try, Ana. But I'm not Ares. You can't bait me. My lord is waiting, and he's got plenty of quests for me to undertake."

"Annabeth—"

"Good-bye, Ana. There's a new Golden Age coming. You won't be part of it."

She turned and strode away, and I saw a boy, someone I knew vaguely as one of the unclaimed in Cabin 11, join her. But there was nothing I could do to stop them, because the minute Annabeth turned, the scorpion lunged.

I swatted it away with my hand and summoned my sword. The thing jumped at me and I cut it in half in mid-air.

I was about to go racing after the two traitors until I looked down at my hand. My palm had a huge red welt, oozing and smoking with yellow guck. The damn thing had gotten me after all. I had always hated bugs.

My ears pounded. My vision went foggy. _'The water,'_ I thought dazedly,hearing the noise of the creek nearby. _'It healed me before.'_

I stumbled to the creek and submerged my hand, but nothing seemed to happen. The poison was too strong. My vision was getting dark. I could barely stand up.

Sixty seconds, Annabeth had told me.

I had to get back to camp. If I collapsed out here, my body would be dinner for a monster. Nobody would ever know what had happened, they wouldn't know about Annabeth and the boy's treachery. They would be completely vulnerable to the two.

My legs felt like lead. My forehead was burning. I stumbled toward the camp, and the nymphs stirred from their trees.

"Help," I croaked. "Please ..."

Two of them took my arms, pulling me along. I dimly remember making it to the clearing, a counsellor shouting for help, Chiron blowing a conch horn urgently. Then everything went black.

* * *

I woke with a drinking straw in my mouth. I was sipping something that tasted like liquid chocolate-chip cookies. Nectar.

I opened my eyes and looked around weakly. I was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, my right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Luke sat next to me, holding my nectar glass and dabbing a washcloth on my forehead.

"Anyone else got deja vu?" I asked with a weak smile at him.

"That's not funny," Luke answered, looking shaky. "You were green and turning grey when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing ..."

"Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Ana's constitution deserves some of the credit for her survival."

He was sitting near the foot of my bed in human form, which was why I hadn't noticed him yet. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved."

"Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened."

Between sips of nectar, I told them the story.

The room was quiet for a long time.

"We have to hunt them down," Luke said tightly. "The boy you mentioned must be Ethan Nakamura. He hasn't been seen today, and everyone else is accounted for."

He was pushing his pain aside to focus on the problem at hand, but I could see the anguish in his eyes at his surrogate little sister's betrayal. Annabeth had been a mix of sister, daughter and friend to him. I couldn't imagine the pain he was feeling right now.

"This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured in reply. "I will go at once."

"Zeus has declared the matter of Kronos closed," I pointed out tightly. "We need to do this ourselves, _before_ the Titans are walking the earth again!"

"Ana, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready."

I didn't like it, but I knew that Chiron was right. One look at my hand, and I knew I wasn't going to be sword fighting any time soon.

"Chiron ... the prophecy, the one about the child of one of the Big Three... is it, I mean-"

Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Ana, it isn't my place—"

"You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?"

His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great heroine, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you ..."

Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows.

"All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!"

He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Ana. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing."

"We can't just sit back and do nothing," I protested.

"We will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unravelled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come."

"Assuming I live that long."

"You will," Luke promised darkly. "You're staying, aren't you? I'll make sure of it, Ariel, I swear on the River Styx that I'll see you live through this."

Thunder boomed and I gasped, pressing a hand to my mouth.

"That was foolish," Chiron sighed tiredly. "But it is done. Rest now, both of you. I must go and speak to the gods."

I wanted to protest. I wanted to ask him more questions. But his expression told me there could be no more discussion; he had said as much as he could.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you."

I watched him leave, then turned to Luke. "Help me up. I want to go outside."

"Ana, that isn't a good idea."

I ignored him and slid my legs out of bed. Luke caught me before I could crumple to the floor. A wave of nausea rolled over me.

"I told you so," Luke grumbled, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and grasping my waist to support me.

"I'm fine," I insisted. I didn't want to lie in bed like an invalid while Annabeth and Ethan were out there planning to destroy the Western world.

I managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on Luke. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance.

By the time we reached the porch, my face was beaded with sweat. My stomach had twisted into knots and I felt like I was going to faint. But I had managed to make it all the way to the railing.

It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun.

"What are you going to do?" Luke asked me.

I shrugged helplessly at that. "I don't know." Without looking at him, I reached out to clasp his hand gently. "I'm sorry about Annabeth."

He swallowed loudly. "I am too," he muttered gruffly. We were quiet after that, and I pretended I didn't see the tears trickling down his face as he stared wistfully at Thalia's pine tree.

We stayed like that until we went to bed at curfew. As I entered my cabin that night, I felt the pressure settle itself around my shoulders like I was suddenly carrying the weight of world on them. A child of the Big Three would save or destroy the world. And I was the only candidate for the position.


	23. Sequel!

Sequel up now!


End file.
